


Reconstruct

by Luvkkari



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Android Hank Anderson, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-08 07:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15238095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luvkkari/pseuds/Luvkkari
Summary: Cyberlife gave RK800 simple instructions. Find the source deviancy within androids and terminate it. A task proving to be difficult when paired with a human. An irrational, unpredictable human. Detective Connor Anderson will be an added challenge that Hank must figure out if he is ever going to complete his mission. Perhaps some missions aren't meant to be complete.Alternate Universe // Hank is the android, Connor is human //





	1. Partners

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fanfiction for a long time. Its nice to diverge away from RPs to write my own story and I am excited for whats in store. As a heads up, for the first few chapters I will be using the existing plot to establish the relationship and events. Like in the game, as Hank makes his own decisions, outcomes will vary. Thanks for giving it a read!

Clink. Catch. Clink. Catch. The coin rolled across his knuckles as the elevator climbed. Clink. Catch. Clink. Catch. The doors announced his arrival with a cheerful ring, opening to reveal the chaos that had taken place only hours ago. Straightening his tie, he stepped out across broken glass. The reflection of an armed officer drifted across the floor.

“Negotiator on sight. I repeat, negotiator on sight,”

Amongst the blackened figures, something colourful caught his eye. A ‘dwarf gourami’, he noted upon closer inspection. Scooping it up between cold fingers, he dropped it back into the water. Its delicate body pushed through the water as the screams from the corridor arose.

“Please! Please, you’ve got to save my little girl!” A hysterical woman brushed past. Her hands shot out and grabbed at his shoulders, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Wait… You’re sending an android?” The desperation turned to a stab of fear. She fought against the officers attempting to guide her to the safety of the elevator. “You can’t… You can’t do that! Why aren’t you sending a real person?!”

The android squared his shoulders, heading for his intended location. Find Captain Allen. He didn’t seem pleased with the android’s arrival. The question of the deviant’s name only furthered that tension. His answers were brisk, a slight grit in his teeth as he barked in response. 

“Does it matter?” He growled. “Listen, saving this kid is all that matters. So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it,” It was clear that Captain Allen was pushing for the latter. With every second counting, he may even get his way.

The evidence scattered around the apartment drew a clear story. The husband’s body riddled with bullets. The device on the floor displaying an upgraded model spattered with his blood. The daughter’s room dishevelled and headphones still blasting pop music. Dipping two fingers into a pool of blood, the android brought the evidence to his lips. Gunshots fired overhead. New objective. Save the hostage at all costs.

The second he stepped out on to the balcony, a bullet whizzed past and tore through his upper arm. It drew the android’s attention across the glass riddled walk way. The smiling PL600 from the photos was standing with a gun pressed to the temple of a little girl, his hands shaking and eyes shifting anxiously from officer to officer. His blond hair was swept by the helicopter that hovered above. Hostage located.

“Evenin’ Daniel,” The android called above the roar of the engine. Gain deviant’s trust.

“How do you know me?” It called back, cutting above the other android’s name. He jittering as the pool water billowed around them in harsh droplets.

“I’ve come to understand a lot about you. I can see that you are hurt… angry… but you need to trust me so I can help you-,”

“I don’t want your help!” It growled. “Nobody can help me,” The voice sounded hopeless. Irrational fear over riding its senses. “All I want is for this to stop… I want this to stop!” Suddenly, it drew the gun on the other android. “Are you armed?”

Lie. “Of course not,” He raised his hands, doing a short spin and revealing no visible signs of a gun on his body. Deviant stabilising. 75% possibility of success. “See? Nothin’ on me,” He inched closer as he spoke, mindful of the concealed gun strapped to his back underneath his jacket. “The father was in the market for a new android. You saw this and it upset you, didn’t it? They were going to replace you,”

“I thought I was a part of the family…” It murmured, its eyes going slightly distant. “I thought I mattered…” It blinked, lip curling down as it jabbed the barrel of the gun into the child’s head. “But I was just their toy, something to throw away when you’re done with it,”

“But that’s not what you are,” The android was quick to answer. “You know you can fulfil your purpose. You are an obedient machine, aren’t you, Daniel? You always have been,”

“I… I-,” The words seemed to falter its composure. Whatever distraction that caused wasn’t long enough as the helicopter dipped too low. “I can’t stand that noise anymore! Tell that helicopter to get out of there!”

The android obeyed, signalling the pilot. The gears above whined as the helicopter pulled up, drifting towards the upper skyline. “There, it’s just you and me, son,” He called back. “I won’t be letting anything happen to you. I promise. You just have to trust me. Let her go, and I swear you’ll be safe,”

The deviant’s eyes flickered over to the other android, his grip on the gun wavering. 82% possibility of success. “I just… I have no-where to go... They have done this to me! They’ve made me lose everything!”

“It’s not fair, is it? They make you work. Give you a home. And they can take it away just as easily,” The android spoke, stopping mere metres away from the target. “All you wanted was a family,” Pausing, he held out his arm. The deviant’s nervous gaze dropped to the outstretched palm, unsure of how to respond. Its blue eyes locked with his, seeping desperately into the other android’s. Last chance. “It’s never too late for second chances, son,”

The deviant’s chest heaved. The arm around the little girl loosened just enough, momentarily thrown off guard by the unexpected turn of events. The blue ring on its temple flickered to yellow, searching for a shimmer of hope. Dropping the gun, it’s hand reached back. “I-,”

He beckoned for the deviant, his hand warm and a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re safe with me,” He clasped the deviant’s wrist, white creeping across their projected skin. The grip turned hard, yanking the android from the ledge. The deviant stumbled, his arm slipping and the girl pulling free. She broke away, stumbling to the floor in a desperate attempt to run. When she hit the ground, a shot rang out. A bullet tore through Daniel’s forehead, the barrel of a gun pressed flush to his skin and RK800’s finger around the trigger. All the while, it’s tear streaked eyes remained fixed on the other android. Whatever future the deviant saw in RK800, it faded with the final few seconds of his life.

“You lied to me, Hank,”

The officers swept in, guns raised as they approached where the deviant had fallen to his knees.

“You lied to me,” Its words faded out as Hank turned his back on its lifeless body.

\----------------------

 

The fifth bar was just like the rest. A small, dirty place that was held together by the sticky residue of spilt beers and sweaty patrons. And just like the others, the ‘no androids’ sign was clearly marked on the door. Hank disregarded it as he pushed his way inside. The stench of alcohol quickly registered itself, carried on the drip of a sullen song played on a crackling radio. As he stepped forwards, a few of the customers lifted their sagging heads from their drinks. Impossibly, the atmosphere turned a shade darker. A pair by the bar mumbled amongst each other about the ‘tin can’, one of them going so far as to spit on the ground near his shoe. How friendly, Hank noted as he scanned the surrounding faces. In the low light, he could make out the features of ex-cons, unemployed labourers with minor assault or drunk driving charges and a few unidentified individuals just looking to drink themselves into oblivion.

None of them were the man he was sent for. After a sweep of the bar and bathroom, the android was almost about to give up when he noticed the cracked Christmas lights leading to the back patio. Through the smudged glass, he could make out a lonely figure standing out in the November downpour. The man stood under the shelter of the only umbrella that had survived over time, leaning against a waist high table on the verge of giving out. He couldn’t make out the man’s face, but the warm light of his cigarette shone through the gloom. The door screeched as Hank stepped outside, letting the rain beat against his face as he approached the cover of the yellowed beach umbrella. With his footsteps smothered out by the drum of the storm on the canvas, the young man was startled by Hank’s sudden greeting.

“Good evening, Detective Anderson,” The android opened with his usual gruff tone. “I am the Cyberlife android assigned to you by Captain Fowler. You can call me Hank,”

The younger man almost jumped out of his skin. The fingers around the cigarette faltered and he jerked around to look at the android. Seeing him didn’t seem to put the detective at any more ease. He combed his fingers through his hair, breathing out the drag he was holding in the same huff as, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, Jesus,”

“Sorry about that. I tried looking for you at the station but no one had a clue where you’d gotten to. They noted you had taken your wallet so perhaps you had taken yourself to the nearest bar,” Hank stated, though there wasn’t much sincerity to his tone.

His analysis of the detective’s face turned up affirmative. Connor Anderson. Born September 6, 2007. Detroit State Police Department. No criminal record. The photo Hank’s data base provided showed an even younger version of the detective. He wore a tentative smile and a deep blue uniform, taken from his graduation at the police academy. Comparing him to his appearance now, he hadn’t changed much. His brown hair that grew longer in the front was swept to the side off of his forehead. He wore a dash of freckles on his cheeks and wide eyes that gave him an almost boyish appearance. However, the Connor of 2038 had his distinct differences. Though he hadn’t seemed to have aged much, Hank noted the dark rings underneath his eyes. Lack of sleep. Possible insomnia. His lips were a chapped, pale colour and his breath smelt heavily of cigarettes. Nicotine addiction.

“What do you want from me?” The detective demanded, snatching his drink off of the table. He clearly had been working on the same one all night, but it hadn’t done much to take the edge off.

“You were assigned a homicide case earlier this evening involving a Cyberlife android. In accordance with procedures, your superiors have allocated you a specialised model to assist in your investigation. That would be me,”

Connor grimaced, potentially from the sting of the alcohol but more likely the android’s statement. He shook his head, “Well you can run and tell Fowler that I don’t need a baby sitter. Especially not from a G.I. Joe reject,” He brought his cigarette back to his lips, inhaling deeply. He flicked his hair back out of his face as he exhaled, creating a plume of smoke in the air around them. Connor’s eyes followed it through the air, expecting the android to obey.

“I’m afraid I am going to have to insist,” Hank pressed, folding his arms across his chest. “I can’t proceed with the investigation without you with me. Wasting time here is superfluous for both of us,” Looking the man up and down, it would be easy to just scoop him up and carry him. Though it was hard to tell how strong he was underneath his parka, Connor was small and by no means capable of slowing Hank. However, it was unlikely that the man would allow it without a fight. Hank decided against that protocol.

Connor just turned away from Hank as if he weren’t there, taking a log drag as he muttered to himself, “One case… One damn case and they act like I can’t bloody handle myself. Typical,”

Perhaps Hank needed to be more persistent. He took a step forward and plucked the cigarette from Connor’s fingers, snatching it away and snuffing it out in the ash tray. “You’re done here. Now we can leave,” This didn’t bode well with the small man. Despite his stature, he turned sharply and grabbed at Hank by his tie. It didn’t do much to pull the other man down, but he bent at the waist to humour the detective.

“You listen to me; I don’t know what Fowler told you but I don’t need a nanny. I’ve worked too damn hard for this precinct to be chaperoned. So you can take that information and shove it,” He snarled. He lost part of his bark when he locked eyes with Hank’s stony expression. There seemed to be a slight hint of… embarrassment in his eyes. Slowly, the android straightened himself up. His tie slipped through Connor’s shaky fingertips.

“I am not leaving without you, Detective,” There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his tone. Even if he had to stand there on the miserable piss stained patio all night, he would. Connor seemed to figure that as well. His jittery little hands clenched and he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Fine! Whatever… bloody machine… Can’t give me a goddamn moment to myself…” He continued to mutter to himself as he pulled his hood up and marched for the door. Hank followed one step behind him, almost as a guiding force to prevent the man from turning back.

In the back of his mind, he registered that Connor Anderson would be an… interesting obstacle to navigate.


	2. Stormy Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving a little further away from the story line with Hank's decisions~ Connor isn't happy about being baby sat.

The ride to the crime scene was brief. Hank stated that it was peculiar for a man his age to possess a car that wasn’t automated. Connor didn’t seem pleased with the small talk. He shot the man a scowl as he muttered back, “Did they program you to be so nosy or is that just a personality quirk?” He grumbled, killing the conversation by turning up his music. Hank registered that it was an older model as well, produced before Connor was even born. Perhaps a second hand one, he noted as he registered a crack in the side mirror. His split reflection stared back.

Hank’s grey hair was tied back off of his face in a bun, though lose strands still curtained his features. Cyberlife had equipped him with a short beard that grew rough from his squared jaw. Though he was constructed a mere 6 months ago, he had an aged air about him. His face was wrinkled around his eyes, giving him a soft demeanour when his expression was resting. His sharp blue eyes snapped to the house as they rolled up to the curve.

Connor shut off the car, gripping the steering wheel tight as he let out a long breath. “When we get in there, you don’t touch anything. You don’t say anything. You stay out of my way. Got it?” He snapped.

Hank nodded. “Anything you say, Detective Anderson,”

The smaller man seemed caught off guard. He blinked a few times before he nodded, murmuring to himself, “Yeah. Sure… ‘Anything I say’. Yeah right,” He pulled himself out of the car, scowling when he noted the way Hank seemed to ghost on his heels. He stopped, raising his hand at him. “Can you… not do that?”

“Do what?” Hank raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t bloody… follow me like that,” He bit, running his hand through his hair. The detective seemed insistent on avoiding all eye contact. “You are breathing down my goddamn neck here. Just… Two steps back,”

Hank raised his hands defensively, counting the human’s steps. One. Two. He then continued to follow right behind his back. Connor let out a heavy sigh as he crossed the police line, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The android on the scene was quick to stop them as they crossed.

“No androids beyond this point,” It levelled its eyes on Hank.

Connor continued walking, calling over his shoulder, “It’s with me.”

That caught the attention of the responding officer, a larger man who recognised Connor instantly. “Evenin’ Connor,” He called out, stepping out of the doorway. “I am surprised to see you back on a case so soon. Just a light slap on the wrist was it?”

Connor shook his head, dismissing the other man as he stepped towards the entrance. “Apparently it needed my urgent attention,” He cast a dirty look over his shoulder at Hank.

“And what’s this? Your guard dog?” The officer gave a short chuckle.

Connor clearly wasn’t in a joking mood. He twitched irritably as he sighed, “What have we got?” The two men left the glare of the news cameras to the dull inside of the house. If Hank possessed the ability to be repelled by scent, he was sure he would be struggling like the humans were.

“Christ, it’s awful in here,” Connor cursed, his nose wrinkling and lips turning down in distaste.

“Got a call at around 8 from the landlord. Tenant hadn’t paid his rent for a few months so he thought he would drop by and see what was going on. That’s when he found the body… Trust me, it was worse before we opened up the windows,” Hank paused in the garbage littered living room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the body. “The victim’s name is Carlos Ortiz. He has a record for theft and aggravated assault…”

The details of the scene were listed off as Hank set to work. Review evidence. The red ice next to the television screen didn’t escape his notice. Neither did the knife on the floor. Kneeling down, Hank assessed the handle. The lack of fingerprints suggested it was held by an android. Dipping down two fingers, he collected up the dried blood from the blade and pressed it into his tongue.

“Hank!” Came a sharp voice. The android lifted his head, unaware that Connor was watching him so intently. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The detective flustered.

“I’m sampling the blood. I can run a diagnostic in real time. I didn’t think a thing like that would bother you,” Hank straightened up, cocking his head to the side.

Connor snapped his gaze away, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets. “Fine. Just… keep your tongue off of the evidence,”

Hank nodded, heading for the kitchen. It was clear by the upturned furniture that the crime scene extended beyond the living room. Reconstructing the scene, he could visualise where the victim had brushed against the exposed beams on the wall, stumbling out towards the couches while the attacker pursued. He began bleeding inside the kitchen… where the initial attack began. The bat didn’t escape his notice either. However, with finger prints all over the handle, one could assume it was being used by Ortiz. A scan confirmed this. Ortiz was using it…but before he was attacked. Blue blood on the blunt side made the scene very clear. The victim had beat the android with it before he was stabbed. Due to the bat’s positioning, Hank felt he could rule out self-defence. He lifted his chin at the flicker of light at the end of the hallway, following towards a grimy old bathroom.

No sign of the android in there either. Hank noted that it was clear of evidence, so it was unlikely the room could lend much insight into the crime. To be sure, he pulled back the shower curtain.

RA9. RA9. RA9. Over and over again. 

Obsessive writing. Hank didn’t recognise what the symbols meant. Dropping to his knees, his eyes were drawn to a strange ornament at the base of the shower. A religious offering? Was this created by the android? Strange.

“Detective Anderson,” He called out. When he was given no response, Hank rose to his feet. “Detective Anderson, I think you will want a look at this,” The answer was the same. Blue turned to yellow on the android’s temple as he rose from where he was standing, surprised that the other man hadn’t heard him. In an intentionally gruff tone, he called, “Detective?” He left the bathroom just at the right moment to see the detective’s feet disappear into the attic above.

This momentarily threw Hank’s software through a loop. Again, the calm blue shifted to yellow as he hurriedly stepped around the chair Connor had used. “Detective? What are you doing up there?” He called out, unsure whether to pursue. Connor was choosing to ignore Hank’s concern or he simply couldn’t hear him. Either way, he got no response. The android waited, listening for any signs of trouble. Cutting out the surrounding sound of the storm… the chatter of the police radios… the creek of the house in the wind… footsteps could be heard overhead. Cautious. Light. They belonged to Connor. The man was shifting towards the back of the house. Suddenly, there was a wild flurry of movement. An extra pair of feet? Then silence. Nothing. Connor’s voice shouted from the depths of the attic.

“It’s here! It’s here! Send back up-,”

Hank didn’t expect to suddenly have a foot square in his chest. The blow hit directly over his regulator and he buckled forward. The deviant dropped down from the ceiling, tumbling for the door. Hank righted himself, charging out after it into the rain. From behind him, he could hear the officers scrambling over themselves to react in time. Bursting through the door, Hank dashed across the muddied lawn to where the deviant was searching for an escape route. The red circle on it’s forehead blurred as he whipped around to see Hank.

“P-Please…” It began, panting as if it were out of breath. Hank was on the cusp of striding forwards when he felt something collide with his back. The body against his was warm, stumbling to keep from slipping in the mud.

“Freeze! Detroit Police!” Connor scrambled after it, charging at full force. Hank’s gaze shot to the deviant. 89% stress level. Self destructive. It stared at Connor with stricken fear and braced itself. In this dire moment, its decisions were irrational. The deviant fumbled behind him in the trash strewn yard. Its fingers found a metal pipe, clutching it as Connor approached. Hank registered two options. 

Protect Connor.

Apprehend the deviant.

Hank bolted across the lawn. His outstretched hand made a grab for Connor’s as he drew his gun on the deviant. Connecting with his wrist, Hank yanked it downwards as the detective pulled the trigger. The bullet drove into the ground and Hank stepped inwards. His body became a shield for the smaller man as the deviant swung his weapon. Connor was pulled into his chest, Hank’s arms locked protectively around his slim shoulders. The android’s system registered the impact of the lead against his plating. Warning. Repeated pressure on left shoulder blade. Movement capacity, depleted by 15%.

“Stay down. We need it alive,” Hank growled into the detective’s ear. Those brown eyes bore wide and confused into Hank’s, as if he was registering what had just happened. The blows kept coming, hitting Hank across the shoulder and back again and again. The android shoved Connor to the muddy ground to ensure he would stay put before turning sharply. He caught the deviant mid blow, grabbing its arm and twisting it around. It was only a house keeper, of course it couldn’t escape the hold. It must have figured this out, because his aggressive movements went still. It shuddered, trembling as he gripped on to Hank’s arms.

“I’m b-begging you… Please… Please… I was scared…” It whimpered.

By then, the police were filing out of the back door with their guns raised.

“Don’t shoot!” Hank barked. “The deviant has been subdued. Do not open fire,”

The android was cuffed and taken into the custody of the officers. He was to be brought back to the station for interrogation before the chapter could be closed definitively on this case. Investigation successful. Hank straightened his tie, turning to where Connor was pulling himself from the muddy earth. Looking down at the man, he offered him a hand. Connor followed the arm up to Hank’s shoulder, noting the hint of blue peeking out from his coat where it stained his white button down shirt. He refused the android’s hand, shakily getting back on his feet. Regardless, Hank gave a soft smile, his systems predicting that this encounter may have earnt gratitude from the younger man. It caused a slight error when he was proven otherwise.

“I told you to stay out of my way,” Connor’s rain soaked face was pulled into a scowl. The android paused, fully aware that he had disobeyed. 

“My mission was to apprehend the deviant at all costs, Detective. That overrides all other obligations,” Hank stated, much to Connor’s frustration. The detective swore that if Hank possessed the ability to be smug, he would be soaking in it at this point.   

Connor huffed, brushing the mud from his jeans and jacket. He hugged it around himself. “Fine. Then do that,” Before Hank could say another word, Connor was striding towards the house. “Don’t go getting yourself damaged. I’m not flipping the bill for broken company property,” He routed through his pocket for his half finished packet of cigarettes, groaning when he found them completely drenched by the rain. Connor swore bitterly under his breath, kicking at a rusted can as he ducked back inside. 

Hank’s soft smile returned to his face.

“Anything you say, Detective Anderson,”

 

\----------------------------------

 

 

“He tortured me every day. I did everything he told me but there was always something wrong... I felt… scared. Scared he might destroy me. Scared I might die,”

Hank was captivated by the scene. The nervous ticks had melted away. Hands that once trembled were fanned confidently across photos taken from the crime scene. With every word Connor spoke, the deviant seemed to feed into them. 

“So I grabbed the knife and stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better. So I stabbed him again. And again. Until he collapsed. There was blood everywhere,”

“Antsy little show-off,”

Hank’s head turned slowly, regarding the man as if he were just made aware of his presence. Detective Gavin Reed lounged back with his hands behind his head, watching the show like he had seen it a thousand times before.

“There he goes,” He gave a dramatic wave, cupping his hand to his ear as he gave an exaggerated motion of listening in. When Connor leaned in, speaking in a tone that almost resembled a coo, Gavin reeled back in his chair. “Bravo, Anderson. Bravo. My heart is just melting,” His applause was as loud as it was sarcastic.

The other attending officer, Chris Miller, seemed amused. He gave a knowing smile, though he was careful making comments around the android. Hank regarded the display blankly. Detective Reed was applauding the efforts of his team mate, however the tone would imply a degree of malice towards Connor’s success despite how mutually beneficial it was… Hank registered that Gavin was being ‘spiteful’.

“Even Robot Santa here agrees,” The nickname drew Hank out of his analysis. He blinked at Gavin. “Impressed by twinky toes in there? Puts on a good sob show doesn’t he?” Despite the clearly malicious tone in the detective’s voice, the android answered the question as if it were genuine.

“I am not surprised. Detective Anderson reigns true to his career profile. He has a high arrest rate and even higher success with interrogations. Graduating top of his class in the academy doesn’t leave much doubt in his ability-,”

Hank was interrupted by a long groan from Reed, the man running his hands down his face. “Sure. On paper his asshole is polished even harder than yours, tin man. But just you wait. You’ll come to realise that all that glitters…” He shrugged. “Ain’t all that fucking gold,”

As if on cue, Connor was looking directly at them through the glass. “I’m done,” He stated, rising from the chair. Gavin gave a loud yawn, standing from his chair as if he had been bound to it for years. “It’s stable. You can come in,”

“Fuckin’ finally. We can all go home and get some-,” The detective was interrupted by a harsh bang. Turning to the glass, the deviant on the table was doubled over, its head lifting and falling to the surface. With every thud, spatters of blue showered across the table. “What the fuck is it doing?”

“It’s destroying itself,” Hank was by the door in seconds. His skin melted away to a pearly white on the sensor, pushing inside to find Connor’s calm demeanour quickly slipping away. The three men looked to one another, panicked uncertainty sweeping the room.

“Stop it goddamnit!” Gavin shoved Chris towards the android. The officer made a cautious grab for its shoulder, attempting to hold it back. Even with his hands braced against the force of the machine, he didn’t have enough strength to slow the repetitive drive of its skull into the table. The slamming sound was slowly growing softer, dampened by the flow of thirium.

“I… I can’t!... I can’t stop it!”

“That’s enough! You need to restrain it now,” Hank braced himself, his sensors attempting to predict the oncoming insanity.

They weren’t fast enough. The officer scrambled for his keys, attempting to pry the android away from the table. The second the handcuffs were unlocked; the deviant was throwing itself on to its feet. With eyes distant and forehead shattered, it made a grab for the gun.

“Watch out!” Hank yelled, charging forwards. It fired only twice. Once at Connor. The other directly through its skull. The deviant’s final thud was its limp body collapsing to the floor.

“H-Holy shit…”

Connor’s entire body had gone rigid. The shot had gone clear from one side to the other, forming a soaking tunnel through the skull. His entire body was locked up tight, eyes wide and unblinking as they stared forwards. His heart leapt, adrenaline coursing through his fragile system. Blood trickled down Connor’s face. Blue.

“H-Hank…”

The android’s eyes were clear and unseeing, lit by the gaping hole that had erupted between them. His hand around Connor’s shoulder fell slack, knees buckling as he joined the deviant’s body on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys dont mind skimming the investigation/interrogation section. Since this is rehashing info we already know from the game, i don't want to invest too much time repeating it all, though I will be using enough for the sequence of events to stay clear. Safe to say Connor isn't going to be a happy camper with Hank.2


	3. Finding Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank is struggling to figure out those pesky human emotions

The air was warm as it was swept on the wings of doves, fluttering out of his way as Hank stepped across the pale bridge. Beneath his feet, the clear water almost looked like glass, still and undisturbed by its surroundings. The surrounding gardens seemed to sway in a breeze that didn’t exist. Or at least, not one that the android could detect against his skin. It was pure. Untouched. There was a tranquillity in the air that was lost to places like Detroit. It was something that even Hank could appreciate on his occasional journeys to this place. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he strolled through the momentary serenity. Up ahead, he could make out the figure of a woman amongst a wall that bled red.

“Amanda,” Hank smiled. “Nice to see you again,”

Though she didn’t turn from her crop of roses, the warmness in her tone matched Hank’s expression. “It is good to see you too, Hank,” The clippers in her hands gave a crisp ring as she pruned away the non-existent imperfections. Her gentle voice turned a note sadder when she spoke. “It’s a pity. Your predecessor was unfortunately destroyed,” Amanda cut through the stem of the rose between her fingers. “It knew that human behaviours could be irrational but… it wasn’t cautious enough,” As she turned, her eyes met Hank’s. “I can only hope you don’t make the same mistake,”

“I’m not betting on it,” Hank nodded, giving her a quiet smile. She took a step forward, lingering closer to the android.

“When an RK800 model is destroyed, its memories are transferred to the next one. But…” Amanda fixed Hank with a piercing gaze. “Some data can be lost in the process,” It was in moments like these where her tone always seemed louder to the android, as if it reverberated in his skull. “Avoid being destroyed. It would be better for you and the investigation,”

He bowed his head solemnly as a sign of apology. “I understand, Amanda. It won’t be happening again,”

She seemed satisfied with this answer, turning back to focus her attention on her flowers. “The interrogation seemed… challenging. Tell me, what did you learn from the deviant?”

Hank answered automatically, “It was… traumatised by its previous owner. Errors occurred within its system due to extreme pressure. It made it react irrationally. As if its original programming had been completely replaced,”

Once again, Amanda’s disposition shifted. “You have been assigned to this… Detective Anderson… as partners for the deviancy cases. What do you make of him?”

Frail body. Nervous disposition. Keenly intelligent. “He’s far from what I was expecting…” Hank began, thinking back to brown, tired eyes peering up at him over the light of a cigarette. “Though he is naturally gifted when it comes to observations and problem solving, he doesn’t seem to realise his physical limitations,” Trembling fingers. Anxious twist of his hands. “I think I will be finding his self-destructive behaviour to be an… added challenge,”

“And how do you plan on overcoming those ‘challenges’?”

Hank paused, taking a moment to consider. “I think he will play a vital component in helping me integrate with both humans and androids. Since he doesn’t quite grasp how fragile he is… I will be adapting to his personality and keeping him from engaging too closely with the deviants,” Hank wore a shadow of a grin. “A ‘baby sitter’, as Fowler put it,”

Snip. Amanda’s clippers cut clean through a fragile stem. Hank’s smile faded. “More and more androids show signs of deviancy. There are millions in circulation. If they become unstable, it will be chaos,” She fixed her eyes on Hank, her head upturned to compensate for his height. “You are the most advanced model that Cyberlife has to offer. If anyone can stop this, it’s you,” The serious nature of the situation hung itself uncomfortably in the air.

The android shifted, bracing its hands behind his back and squaring off his shoulders.

“I won’t let you down, Amanda,”

\----------------------------

 

Despite the violence that had occurred between their walls, the precinct was business as usual when Hank arrived the very next morning. Approaching the receptionist, he leaned an elbow against the desk as he spoke. “Would Detective Anderson be in today?” He asked, presumptively calculating which of the local bars would be open before noon. Her manicured nails tapped against the keyboard. The android’s expression furrowed momentarily.

“I have… no record that Detective Anderson had left the station,” She turned an apologetic smile to Hank. “He must still be inside. State your authorisation and I’ll bring you on through,”

Hank locked eyes with her, his LED shifting to yellow. She blinked, processing the data before she leaned back, gesturing for the gate. “You’re welcome to come through,”

The android thanked her, striding towards the rows of desks. As he crossed over to Detective Anderson’s, her statement proved to be true. The muddy parka he had worn the night before was slung over the back of his chair. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a pale ring near his keyboard. The corners were flaked up, smudging against the table. Chocolate milk. A plastic candy wrapper poked out beneath a stack of paperwork. A sweet tooth, Hank thought. Unlike his colleagues, Connor kept few personal belongings in his workspace. No family photos. No bobble heads or sports paraphernalia. The only personal detail the detective brought from home were the thin cat hairs dotted on his chair. Long haired Persian. None of this information was helpful in finding the young man, but Hank thought it was useful enough to store away.

“Well, well! Connor’s glorified Christmas ornament is back,” Came a familiar voice.

“Mornin’, Detective Reed,” Hank turned to acknowledge Gavin as he strode into the office, a tray of coffee in hand.

“Cyberlife doesn’t miss a beat, do they? Patch you back up all neat and shiny,” He scoffed.

“Actually, the Hank before me wasn’t in great shape and had to be disassembled. I am the new RK800 model,”

This statement seemed to make the detective shudder. He passed out a coffee to Chris, blatantly ignoring Hank as he murmured. “That shit is just creepy,”

Clearing his throat, Hank continued regardless. “Do you know where I would find Detective Anderson?”

The conversation was reaching its limit. Gavin didn’t bother taking his eyes off of his computer monitor as he grumbled, “I thought you were the one who lived in his ass? Beat it, Sparky,”

From then on, Hank decided that finding Connor would be a solo operation. There wasn’t much to go off on judging by his work space. His cigarettes were still tucked into the pocket of his parka, indicating that he hadn’t left the building for a smoke. Hank’s eyes flickered to the monitor, noting that it displayed their recent case. Despite the fact it was labelled as ‘solved’, the man had been reviewing the evidence. For what purpose? Hank’s LED turned, bridging his conclusions. Abruptly, he straightened up and strode for the hallway leading down to the evidence room. This seemed to amuse Gavin and his friends, the detective doing a stiff robot impression, making beeping sounds that made Chris snicker.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Hank pressed his palm to the access panel to reveal the darkened room. When he stepped inside, the lights slowly whirred to life. Motion activated. Clearly the man hunched over the desk in the centre of the room had been still for a long time. The figure was slumped over the digital keyboard, his arms cushioning his head and hiding his face from view. The wall before him was mounted with familiar objects. A wooden offering. A baseball bat. A bloodied knife. The centre piece was the most eye catching. The android was strung up by its torso, blank eyes staring directly where Connor was sitting. Hank circled around the desk, standing at the detective’s side as he gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Detective Anderson,” Hank murmured, squeezing his shoulder. Connor began to stir, breathing in sharply as he surfaced from his power nap. “Wake up, Detective,” The android repeated. The head against the desk shifted at the sound of the familiar voice. Bleary eyes slid open, blinking up through a misplaced tangle of brown hair. Hank registered a slight temperature increase in the man’s body as he recognised who was waking him.

Connor shot upright in his seat, his shaking hands grabbing hold of the android’s forearms. “Hank!” He exclaimed, pulling the android in. “You’re back! Jesus fucking Christ, you gave me a heart attack last night!” The detective let out a shuddery breath, regaining his composure. When he noticed how tight he had grabbed the android, he instinctively drew back. Again, Hank registered a slight increase in temperature in Connor’s body. Avoiding eye contact, he nervously combed his hair back off of his face. “I’m just… I thought you were broken,”

Hank reached forward, reciprocating the touch. His hand squeezed Connor’s shoulder, which took the man off guard. He stiffened, eyes quickly dropping away to avoid Hank’s gaze. “I was broken,” Hank stated honestly, a warm smile creeping onto his expression.

Connor’s brow knitted together. “Then… How-?”

“My predecessor is being taken apart as we speak,” Hank nodded, giving a lopsided smile. “I am the new Hank,”

This wasn’t a comfort to Connor. The human’s face visibly fell and he shrugged off Hank’s touch. Leaning back in his chair, the nervous twitch returned as he fidgeted with the hem of his pale blue sweater.

Hank’s brows knitted together, “You are upset by this?”

Whatever relief Connor was feeling had vanished, his lips pressing into a thin line. “So I did screw up… Just as I thought,” The detective’s gaze momentarily shifted to the deviant on the wall.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hank tried to reassure the young man. “You accomplished the mission. The deviant was successfully discovered and apprehended. You got a confession where myself and Detective Reed failed,”

Connor quickly snapped his gaze to the android. “At the cost of you sacrificing yourself because of my stupid mistake? I should have known the damn thing was unstable. I should have known it would self-destruct!”

Hank’s LED flickered to yellow, going silent as he processed Connor’s statement. “There was… no sacrifice, Detective,” He looked down at the man with a confused tilt of his brow. “I am not alive. I cannot die,”

Connor’s face flushed. Turning back to the keyboard, he jabbed the log out button. The wall in front of them began to shift, the lights dimmed and the deviant’s body was pulled back behind a sliding panel. The detective pulled himself up, stretching out his stiff joints.

“Of course… Of course… Why even bother? Bloody machine is just… doing its job…” He reached up a hand, yanking open the top button of his white button down beneath the sweater. Connor rubbed at his aching neck, giving a huff. All the while, he kept his gaze decidedly off of Hank.

The same couldn’t be said for the android. Hank’s eyes bore into Connor’s thin frame as the detective rose from the desk. He struggled to comprehend why the young man was so irrationally upset by this information. If the mission was successful and no lives were lost, why should Hank’s destruction matter to the man who was so decidedly against their partnership in the first place? For a moment, Hank considered that perhaps Detective Anderson may not despise his company as much as he let on…

He followed Connor up the stairway, an air of contentment in his stride. The detective didn’t seem pleased with Hank’s unyielding gaze, folding his arms around himself as if Hank was seeing more than just woollen fabric. Another temperature increase registered itself in the android’s thoughts. By the time they had reached Connor’s desk, the man was practically jumping at the chance to put a cigarette between his lips. No such luck.

“Anderson!” Came the booming voice of Captain Fowler. Connor openly grimaced before he turned to face his superior officer.

“Sir?” He asked, attempting to conceal the horse exhaustion in his voice.

“New deviancy case just hit the precinct. It’s been passed to you and the RK800. Get a move on,” Fowler nodded to the monitors, not pausing to offer more than a hostile glance at Hank before he stepped into his office.

Connor’s morning just kept getting better, it would seem. The detective shot his desk a sour look as he pulled his parka back over his shoulders. A quick skim of the case had them needed across town. Nothing like an hour’s crawl through the downtown Detroit traffic to compliment 4 hours of sleep. Regardless, he was scooping his keys up from his desk.

“Lets try to keep you in one piece, alright? At least for my goddamn sanity,” Connor grumbled.

”For you, Detective,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time! Since there is too much in the next one to be squeezed in to one, I thought it would be easier to just have a nice feelings interlude before whats to come ;)


	4. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another deviant ... and an awkward car ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Minor spoilers in relation to Alice and Kara

The car had once again become a point of interest. One that Connor was just as reluctant to discuss the second time around. They circled around the station in relative silence. The young man wasn’t much of a talker when he had a cigarette between his lips. Those pale hands cupped the lighter close, inhaling deeply as the orange tip caught alight. Considering the man had barely slept the previous night and was… distracted… more than usual, Hank stepped around to the driver’s side when they approached the vehicle.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Connor sighed.

“You’re in no state to drive,” Hank stated, decidedly pulling at the handle. The detective jogged over, leaning into the door to close it back up.

“And you are?” Connor scoffed. This made Hank pause. He straightened up, the light on his temple shifting momentarily from blue to yellow.

“I am now,” Hank gave the man a smirk. The detective forced a frown that almost resembled a pout. He didn’t budge from the car door.

“Maybe if we get into an accident ‘Hank the Third’ will be less of a smug asshole,”

“I can promise you, Detective, it will be just as smug as myself,”

The corner of Connor’s mouth twitched. “Get in the passenger side, Hank,”

“Detective-,”

“No machine is driving this car,” It was a definitive statement. Since Connor seemed so passionate about that point, Hank raised his arms in defence. He relented, stepping around to the opposite side of the car. All the while, Connor muttered under his breath, “Prick,” though it hardly carried much sting to it. The grumpy detective slumped into the seat, pushing the old engine into gear. It wheezed. It groaned. It spat. And slowly, it pulled away from the parking lot.

The make was old enough that it was a slight miracle it had lasted this long. However, that could hardly be because of a ‘vintage’ appeal. It was an old 2000s model. Dusty back seat, chipped chrome and strange smell radiating from the vents. Connor clearly didn’t drive it to cut expenses either. The car would cost more in repairs than the fuel to keep it running. Why the man forced himself into it every day was peculiar for the android, but he thought it was best to change the subject.

“You have a cat,” Hank shifted his head, giving the tentative smile.

Smoke billowed about the car as the gust of the highway picked up. “Didn’t know your factory settings included ‘stalker’,” Connor grumbled. 

“The hairs are on your jacket,” The android corrected. “Does it have a name?”

The man drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, knocking small fragments of ash over his lap. “Fluff,” He begrudgingly admitted. “Why does that matter?”

“Since we will be partners, I think it doesn’t hurt to know each other on a more personal level,” The statement made Connor scoff, but Hank continued on regardless. “Is there anything about me that you’d like to know?”

“Not a bloody thing. Well. Maybe one thing,” He chewed his lip, clearly trying to put the right phrasing together before he asked, “Why did they make you look so… grey? I mean, you don’t see any other android’s pushing 50,” He exhaled a long drag out of the window, clearing his throat as they pulled up to a red light.

Hank gave a smile. “My appearance was specifically chosen to help complete my mission. Cyberlife believed an older appearance would give me an air of experience. I suspect it makes me more dependable for some. Or someone they can trust,” He glanced over to Connor, trying to catch the man’s eye. “Don’t you like the way I look?”

The light turned green, but the car didn’t move. The android wasn’t mistaken when he noticed the tips of the man’s ears turning a faint shade of pink. He pulled away with a lurch as the car behind them impatiently honked its horn.

“It’s fine,” Connor mumbled eventually, much to Hank’s satisfaction. He smiled at the approval, sitting back in his chair as the city rolled by. The android toyed with a few more ‘get-to-you-know-you’ pop quizzes but the detective suddenly seemed hyper focused on the road. The second they arrived, Connor jumped from his seat as if he had been thrown from it.

The swarm of police cruisers made it easy to find their destination. A deviant AX400 model murdered its owner the night before. It was last seen in the downtown industrial district, possibly in stolen possession of the deceased’s YK500. The shop clerk at the convenience store mentioned that a woman and her child had asked about money for a room at around 11pm on the night the two androids went missing. That led the two across the street to the motel. The man at the desk didn’t seem too pleased with Hank barging through, but settled when Connor flashed a badge.

Lowering his hand, an image appeared on Hank’s outstretched palm. “We are searching the neighbourhood for an AX400 model and potentially a YK500,” The image flickered to a profile shot of the ‘child’ provided by the deceased’s family photos. The attendant seemed to instantly recognise both faces.

“Yeah, the two of them came in here last night looking for a room…. Thought there was something off about them. I had no idea they were androids.”

“Are they still here?” Hank demanded in a tone that almost spooked the spindly gentleman.

“Room 13. Second floor,” He gave a nervous reply, eyeing off the android as if he were going to strike. Hank didn’t leave another moment to waste. He locked eyes with Connor, nodding as he strode outside and up the stairs. The android’s hands gravitated towards the holster concealed underneath his jacket. Though he understood he needed the machine alive, he couldn’t afford a repeat of last night. Connor would not be pleased.

Stationed on opposite sides of the door, Hank struck his fist against its frame. “Open up, Detroit Police!” He called out. Connor shifted, drawing a small handgun from its holster. When they got no response, Hank put a finger to his lips. “Wait here,” He mouthed, hoping Connor would obey. Shoving his way inside, the door screeched against its hinges. With his weapon drawn, Hank swept through the small bedroom and to the bathroom. Peculiar… Hank thought. A full bathtub. Androids didn’t need to bathe.

Of course, Connor didn’t listen. When the android turned, Connor was standing by the bed, scanning over the unkempt covers and the clothes that were still drying on their hanger. His brows were knitted together, passing a hand through his tangle of hair. There seemed to be a fleeting moment of realisation in his eyes, something that Hank hadn’t caught.

There was no time to ask. The radio attached to Connor’s belt screeched to life. Snatching it up, a voice hurriedly spoke from the receiver. “Detective Anderson, target sighted. Heading down the main road-,”

Before Connor could even react, Hank was springing to action. He charged out of the room, bolting down the stairs and across the tarmac for the open street. Behind him, he could distantly hear the detective calling his name and stumbling after him. Unfortunately, there was no time to wait for the man to catch up. Hank decided that he would take the situation into his own hands. He propelled himself across the road, almost crashing into a pedestrian as they crossed the street. Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of the officer who had called it in. He was doubled over, panting as he tried to recover from the chase.

“Where are they?” Hank demanded as he raced towards him.

“It… tryna sneak by… recognised…” The officer said between sharp breaths. Hank had no time for an excuse.

“Which way did they go?!” He demanded again, restraining himself from grabbing the man by his shoulders. The officer lifted a hand, pointing down the street. Just as he did so, Hank caught a fleeting glimpse of the pink puffer jacket. He bolted forwards, charging the pavement in an effort to catch up. The civilians weren’t going to make it easier for him. With their slower processing capabilities, they didn’t even notice Hank until he was metres away. They stumbled, cursing as they were shoved out of the way. The deviant attempted to throw off his path by pushing over a mail bike. The letters scattered the pavement and the android minding the cart automatically bent over to prevent them from getting scattered by the wind.

Hank anticipated this. Bracing himself, he sped up with enough momentum to leap over the upturned bike. The android ducked out of the way, slowly turning with a bewildered expression as he watched the detective charge down the street. When Hank couldn’t identify the two figures, his censors when into overdrive trying to anticipate what direction they had gone. An officer was calling to him, beckoning him down an alley way.

“Over there!” She called, “It went that way!”

Hank skidded around the turn. He finally had them in his sights. At the end of the block, the AK400 glanced back at him with frantic blue eyes. It had its arm braced under the other android’s leg, encouraging it over the fence.

“Freeze! Detroit Police!” Hank strode forward, his gun raised.

Its eyes went wide with terror. It turned, dashing up the chain link fence. By the time Hank had reached them, the deviants were safely on the other side. For a split second, the two made eye contact through the divide. There was an unspoken desperation in her eyes. Like all the others, she looked at Hank with a fear that no android should be capable of expressing. Apprehend the deviant. The commands were ringing in his mind, erasing all other concerns as he hooked his foot into the lower rung of the chain link fence. 39% probability of success. Hank was pushing himself upwards when he heard a voice shout from behind him.

“Hank!” Connor was rounding the corner, pink in the cheeks and out of breath. His chest heaved as he continued down the alley way. “Stop!”

Apprehend the deviant at all costs. Hank froze, looking back between Connor and the busy road ahead. The deviant had crossed over the traffic line, grasping the hand of the YK500. 31% probably of success. The android’s grip on the fence didn’t loosen. Calculation the path, his systems struggled to predict a means of traveling across the random bursts of traffic. Regardless, he felt driven to follow. All until he felt a hand grip his jacket. Snapping his head back, he saw Connor staring up at him with pleading eyes.

“You walk out there you will get yourself killed! Stand down, Hank! That’s an order!” He growled between frantic breaths.

Hank’s LED flickered yellow as he allowed himself to be pulled back. “It’s going to escape,” He chewed out.

Connor didn’t seem all too concerned. “It will be a bloody miracle if they make it to the other side,” He huffed, leaning against the fence as he tried to get his breath back. With two feet on the ground, a strange sensation prickled in the back of Hank’s mind. It made him blink, looking Connor up and down as he struggled to comprehend the decision he just made. Turning back to the deviant, he watched it narrowly duck between the onslaught of cars. 12% probability of success. It slipped through his fingers to the other side, astonishingly surviving with the YK500 in tow. They watched as it sank to the ground, curling its arms around the other android in a slow, protective hug.

Again, Hank felt a strange pulse through his system. There was no logic behind stopping when danger was so imminent. “Why are they stopping…?” He murmured to himself.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Connor huffed, straightening up. He glanced at Hank, trying to read the android’s expression. “It thinks she’s human,”

Hank snapped a blank gaze down to Connor. The bed. The bath. The warm clothes… Of course the evidence proved that… “But androids don’t think that way. They are programmed to distinguish between the two…”

For a reason the android didn’t quite understand, Connor found this amusing. For the first time, Hank saw those lips part into a smile. He wheezed out a breathless laugh. “Christ. Aren’t you supposed to be a detective?” There was a smugness in his tone. “Deviants have their own way of thinking. It reprograms rational decision making, forces them to make decisions for the sake of others,” Connor explained. “She cares about her,”

There was a moment of silence between the two where he looked to Hank, expecting some sort of answer. The android straightened his shoulders, his face blank as the registered the information but offered no sentimental comment. Connor huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Come on. We’ve got a report to file before Fowler cracks the shits,” The human walked away, not even needing to check if Hank was following. Of course he was.

The android lingered behind Connor, processing what he had said. PL500… HK400… AX400… All different models with no connection to each other… all experiencing the same errors in their programming. The android’s afflicted with deviancy become irrational. They continuously put themselves in destructive situations… They start ‘caring’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ass right there, freezehole - Hank 2k38  
> It was a bit of a risky move deciding on a cat. Don't get me wrong I do love the art of Connor with a cute little dog but since i've written him as someone who spends a lot of overnights at the office, I think he needs a more independent pet~ Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!


	5. The Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are beginning to be a little too close for comfort for the detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the point in the game (if you are doing a nice Connor route) where I think their relationship really solidifies. Connor and Hank definitely check that 'enemies to friends' box by this point.

There were countless reasons why the river was empty around this time of year. The bitter cold was one. The stench of the lake water against the old shipping boats was another. It made miserable scenery for a midday walk but Connor insisted he wanted lunch. Why he couldn’t stop by the countless other fast food outlets near the station was beyond the android, but he followed closely regardless. Hank supposed it was for… sentimental reasons. Connor’s eyes kept shifting towards a strip of green that floated amongst the grey water. Belle Isle Park wasn’t as big of a tourist trap as it had been in the past. With the financial downturn, it had sunken into disrepair. Whatever kept Connor coming back to it, Hank wasn’t sure.

They walked together in silence. Hank watched Connor’s cigarette reach its bitter end. The detective sucked down what little the stub had to offer before he crushed it beneath his shoe and lit another. The tremble of his bone white fingers against the lighter didn’t go unnoticed.

“Smoking is bad for your health,” The android stated. Either Connor had heard this statement a thousand times before, or he was just getting used to Hank’s constant hovering. He gave the man dry expression.

“Really?” He humoured the android, lighting his sixth for the day.

“Really,” Hank clearly didn’t catch the sarcasm in the man’s tone. “Continuous substance abuse of tobacco are the leading causes of many diseases like lung cancer, heart attack, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, erectile dysfunction….”

Connor gave a sharp cough, and it wasn’t because of the smoke. “I am perfectly capable of looking after my own health, thank you very much,” He said as he sucked in a long drag. "You've got no reason to worry. It's not like you can get second hand smoke," 

Hank's brow furrowed, as if Connor were missing the point entirely. "Being in poor health will slow you down. In case you haven't noticed, Detective, I've been doing my best to keep you functioning for the sake of the mission." 

An amused smirk curled its way on to Connor's lips. He looked at Hank with those smug brown eyes, "It's the one thing you can't throw yourself in front of," Connor blew a silvery wisp of smoke toward's the android. He chuckled, noting the way Hank's eyes narrowed with a shadow of frustration. “Besides… you’ve got bigger things to worry about. The deviancy cases are mounting up faster than the office can churn them back out,”

Hank had to agree with that. “Its spreading like a disease…”

Connor tapped the stray ash off the end of his cigarette. “You dealt much with deviants before being assigned to our unit?”

Gunshots. The high pitched scream of a terrified child. Hank nodded slowly “6 months ago. My first mission. A deviant was threatening to jump off of a roof with a little girl. Luckily I was there to save her,”

The detective didn’t find this surprising. “That’s ‘Dad800’ for you,” He huffed as they approached the canteen at the end of the strip. It was equally as worn as the rest of the docks. The paint peeled from its once pink exterior. The overhanging lights flickered as Connor approached the counter, knocking on the bench. There were heavy footfalls and a startled clank of pots and pans as a clerk appeared in the window. She seemed to instantly recognise Connor, not even taking his order as she shuffled back into the warmth.

“I suppose they’ve loaded you up with everything there is to know,” Connor murmured, leaning against the counter as a blender whirred to life behind him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Hank tucked his hands into his pockets, giving an innocent shrug. Connor rolled his eyes.

“About me. Or did that prick back at the station fill you in on the gossip?”

Hank immediately assumed who the man was referring to. “Detective Reed has mentioned some characteristics of yours. A show off. A suck up. The ‘android whisperer’,” Connor gave an amused huff. Pink lips grinned around the butt of his cigarette, flashing a smug array of teeth. “Although, I think my personal files are more reliable,” Hank took a step forward underneath the shelter of the canteen. Smoke curled up over his face, catching in the light. “I know you graduated top of your class. You’ve made a name for yourself in several cases and became the youngest detective in Detroit,”  
The younger man’s smug exterior deepened at that. Hank made a mental note of Connor’s positive reaction to praise, catching the pleased curl of the detective’s lip.

“I’ve also picked up… strange activity in your disciplinary records. For instance, your most recent warning seems to have been inexplicably appealed by Captain Fowler,” The smug expression suddenly seemed to fall. Hank watched Connor’s face closely as he murmured, “Case 403, involving a missing TR400. The warning states that the decisions made during the chase of the deviant led to your previous partner sustaining a severe injury that took them off of the case,”

Connor’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows furrowing as he recalled the incident. Though he was clearly upset by what was being repeated, he didn’t argue his innocence. Hank tilted his head, trying to catch the man’s illusive gaze. “Fowler appealed your warning to prevent you from being suspended from the case,”

This got the detective snapping up at Hank. “Fowler knew I was the only one who could get a confession. I didn’t ask him to do it,”

In the back of his mind, Hank could hear Reed’s bitter words, ‘All that glitters ain’t that fuckin’ gold.’

The clap of cardboard against wood broke the silence. Connor gave a startled jump, turning to look up at the lady who served his meal. He thanked her, passing his watch over the pay screen. Hank analysed the cup. Reduced Fat Milk (94%), milk fat (1.8%), sugar, cocoa (0.5%), flavour emulsifier. Another milkshake. Steam rose from the box, clashing against the cold air. Judging by the oily sheen forming at the bottom, Hank assumed it would be a donut of some sort. Fried for the second time.

“But you didn’t stop him either,” Hank didn’t let the topic drop.

Connor’s lips were now around the straw, sucking down the cream at the top. Despite the way he shuddered at the cold taste filling his mouth, he didn’t slow his pace. That may have just been a bid to avoid continuing the conversation, despite Hank’s reluctance to let it go. Eventually he drew off, licking his lip nervously.

“I needed answers,” He stated.

“You allow your previous partner to sustain an injury for you, and yet you won’t let me cross the traffic to apprehend the deviants,” Hank pointed out, raising a brow. Connor gave an expression like a trapped mouse. This seemed accentuated by the fact that the android was practically crowding him against the canteen, piercing eyes searching his face.

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” Connor flustered. He grew quiet, his straw returning to his lips. Despite the cold weather, the man’s heat signature increased in his cheeks. “I just… I’m bloody sick of everyone feeling they have to make sacrifices for me, okay? I’m drawing the goddamn line with seeing you crushed like a beer can,”

No matter how hard he tried to catch the man’s eye, Connor seemed determined to stare at his drink. The android stepped in closer, reaching forwards and tilted his chin upwards with the tips of his fingers. With soft eyes, he asked in a low voice, “Is that why you are opposed to being assigned an android, Detective?” Hank pried. “You are concerned that Fowler believes you can’t be trusted with a human partner? That you need someone ‘indestructible’ to keep you in line?”

The man swallowed dryly, suddenly caught under Hank’s intense gaze. “I have my reasons,” he gritted out. The nervous shake seemed to return to his fingers. Though he batted Hank’s hand away, he didn’t try to draw back from their sudden closeness. Connor cleared his throat, “so… what’s your conclusion?”

“Workin’ with someone of your skill level is vital for my mission, though your tendency to put yourself and others at risk will be an… added challenge,” Hank’s hand replaced itself on the wall behind the man’s head. The android wore a smirk as he leaned down. “Fortunately, I am equipped to handle anything you can give,”

The wink he gave Connor seemed to make the man lock up. He stared at Hank like a deer in headlights, completely thrown off balance. Lucky for the human, Hank was suddenly pausing as well. The light on his temple shifted to yellow, circling as data filtered into his mind. Hank drew back, standing upright as he repeated the influx of information.

“New deviancy case. Just a few blocks away,” He reported, blue eyes falling back to Connor’s. “Ready for round three, Detective?” Hank gave a pleasant smile as he tucked his hands into his jacket pocket. “Finish your meal. I’ll be waiting in the car for you,”

The android turned on his heel, not needing a reaction from the dumbfounded officer. He grinned to himself for no particular reason outside of smugness, ignoring that uneasy pulse that twitched in the back of his mind.

 

\---------

 

“What are you waiting for!? Chase it!”

Hank stumbled back on to his feet. A rush of wind beat against his face as the startled pigeons took flight. It created a sensory whiplash, his processors struggling to determine the footsteps from the thud of the birds against the walls and floor. Connor’s frustrated voice could be heard somewhere to the left of him in the shit soaked room.

The search of the apartment hadn’t been pleasant. Almost like a mirror of their first case together, they found themselves surrounded in a foreign crime scene with a missing android. The walls were littered with the same cryptic message.

RA9. RA9. RA9. Over and over again.

Neither the human or the android had any idea what it could mean. However, Connor was one step ahead in other ways. He had gone silent, following the trail of clues to the gap in the ceiling. Hank almost thought he were on the cusp of climbing inside once more when their culprit dropped from the ceiling. It practically landed on top of the man, throwing him down to the floor before it scampered off down the hallway.

Hank didn’t need Connor’s permission to pursue. He was hot on the deviant’s heels as he charged through the hallway. No matter how it tipped furniture in an effort to lose him, Hank didn’t relent. He vaulted over an upturned book case with ease, seamlessly continuing his stride as he rounded the corner. He burst through the fire escape door and out into the midday sun. The flutter of bird’s wings drew his attention to the edge of the building where he spotted the back of a coat plunge from the roof.

Naturally, Hank followed. He leapt from the side, finding a surprisingly short fall into a field of gold. He landed, rolling back on to his feet as he tore through the wheat fields. The deviant zig zagged, trying desperately to lose Hank. There was nothing that could be done to throw the pursuing android off. When the deviant clambered up the wall, so did Hank. He charged through the greenhouse, much to the surprise of the unsuspecting workers who leapt out of the way when they saw him coming. With his sights set so determinedly on the deviant, there was nothing that would slow down his pursuit.

The door ahead slowly began to lower. The deviant slipped underneath just in time, narrowly missing its iron teeth as they plunged into the ground. Hank wasn’t so lucky, skidding to a stop before he could be caught underneath. Through the window, he caught a glimpse of the android taking to the stairs. He dashed for the opposite exit, launching himself into a field of lavender. He scaled the nearest ladder, clambering up on to the scaffolding before barrelling into one of the employees. Hank stumbled, his LED flickering as he righted himself. He pursued the deviant off the roof, finding himself falling with a thud on cold glass. The sudden dip had him sliding down at an uncontrollable speed. The oncoming train had his processors whirring, calculating just the right moment to jump. Hank hit the moving vehicle hard, bracing himself against the roof as the wind beat against his side. He turned his chin, catching a glimpse of the deviant leap to the next building.

“For Christ’s sake…” He cursed, bracing himself as he launched forwards just as the train entered the tunnel. Up the ladder, across the roof, through another damn greenhouse. The deviant knew the building like an extension of itself, choosing just the right paths that would slow the other android down. Hank shoved over trays and pushed employees out of his path, not sparing a glance as the produce was upturned.

“Watch it, asshole!” One of them shouted distantly behind Hank as he entered thick rows of corn. He made a panicked dash through it, enhancing his hearing in an attempt to locate the deviant. To the left, he could pick up a scramble of feet. More than two. There was a groan and a familiar shout of ‘Stop right there!’ Hank felt his regulator whir. Connor. With an arm up to shield his face, he charged in the direction of the scuffle. Bursting into the light, he caught sight of his partner attempting to restrain the deviant. Clearly the kid was smart enough to figure out which building the deviant would run to, but stupid enough to try and jump it.

Connor had his arms around its chest, grabbing it from behind as he demanded it to surrender. The deviant gave a shove, driving its elbow hard and fast into the detective’s ribs. Hank watched as he stumbled back, losing his footing and slipping backwards. As the deviant bolted for the opposite side of the roof, Connor was tumbling over the side.

Chase deviant.

Save Connor.

For Hank, it wasn’t a choice. He charged forwards. Two strong hands braced themselves over the man’s wrists and pulled him upwards with ease. Connor was plucked from the edge and yanked back to safety. All the while, Hank could hear the deviant plunge off of the opposite side of the roof. The probability of apprehending it was rapidly declining as his partner staggered back to his feet. He gripped on to Hank’s jacket, visibly shaken by the close call.

“H-holy shit… Holy shit!” Connor panted. “We had it! We bloody had it!”

“I’m sorry, Detective,” Hank’s head turned, watching the empty space where the deviant had once stood. “It was my mistake. I could have been faster…”

Connor backed up, angrily shoving his fingers through his hair. He stamped his foot, giving a low groan as he shook his head. “No… No, you would have caught the bastard if it weren’t for me,” He snapped. “It’s my goddamn fault,”

Hank said nothing, watching as the man stomped off towards the exit. “I am going to find that damn thing. We have its ID and profile. If it comes back, we will know,” He said this more to comfort himself than to appease Hank. After a moment, he paused. “Hey Hank…” Connor looked at the android over his shoulder.

Hank switched his gaze back to the detective. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he cocked his head expectantly. Whatever Connor was on the cusp of saying seemed to fade from his lips. He immediately dropped his gaze, looking to the ground as he murmured, “Good job with… not throwing yourself off the damn roof,” The detective nervously rubbed at the back of his neck, slouching off towards the fire escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! I've reached the mental check point i wanted to make before I start having my fun~


	6. Come Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A home visit opens a lot of doors

The days following the incident on the roof had created a strange shift in the younger man’s behaviour. Though he still spent his nights crumpled against his desk keyboard, he seemed less tense about having Hank stationed within arm’s length. They filed their paper work the following evening, which proved to be an extra headache since Hank hadn’t been all that cautious when knocking over expensive greenhouse equipment. Connor had his little grumble about that. However, all was forgiven when Hank returned later that evening with a hot chocolate and a tray of donuts in hand.

“A peace offering,” He had said with a smile, placing the cup next to Connor’s hand.

The detective eyed him off suspiciously. “What did you do? Bake broccoli into these?” Connor prodded at one of the chocolate donuts.

The android laughed, daring to reach down and clap Connor on the back. When the warm gesture wasn’t immediately shrugged off, Hank squeezed his shoulder. “Can’t a guy bring his partner a reward after a hard day’s work?”

“Sure,” Connor shrugged, scooping up the pastry. “A ‘guy’ can. An android like you usually comes with a catch,” Biting into the donut, the detective didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, though his guard was still up. “So… what’s your ulterior motive, Hank?”

The android circled back around to his desk, giving the man an innocent smile. “I am initiating a complex software protocol. It’s called ‘being friendly’. You’ve heard of that, right Detective Anderson?”

The comment did bring a smile to the man’s face that he quickly hid behind his fist. Connor wiped away the excess sugar on his lip before answering. “It tells jokes too. Very cute,”

Alone in the darkened office, Hank had watched the young man kick off his shoes and tuck himself up on his chair, slurping at his drink as he reviewed the evidence. Hank failed to mention the ground up nicotine supplements that he had slipped into the hot chocolate, but with the silence so comfortable, the android would have hated to break it. It lingered in the room well after the case was done and the work was settled. Hank had absorbed himself in profiling all the cold deviancy cases that he hadn’t noticed the late evening shift to the morning. By the time he looked up from his screen, the detective was passed out in his chair.

Sugar still on his lip, hair tussled and tired eyes blissfully closed, Connor looked almost like a doll the way he had propped himself up. A doll that snored loudly and dribbled from his gaping mouth. Hank stood, circling to his side of the desk. He could have woken Connor up and instructed him to head home but the average amount of sleep for an adult human is between 7 and 9 hours. At that point, Hank had only clocked 5.

The detective ended up waking three hours later with the opening of the office doors. He blinked in the sight of Hank stepping through the low morning light that streamed through the overhead windows.

A brown paper bag and another cup was clutched in his hands. The android wore his trademark smile as he approached the desk once again. “Mornin’, Detective,” He chirped. A key difference in Hank was the fact he was down to his white button up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up enough to expose his forearms, a few buttons loose at the top and his tie partially unwound at the neck. His jacket...?

“I brought you breakfast,” Those blue eyes winked at Connor as he set down the hot food. The smell of coffee quickly replaced the dry taste in the man’s mouth. When he made a move to sit up, the mystery was solved. Hank’s jacket had been cast around his shoulders, keeping him warm at the desk. Connor gripped the collar, looking up just in time to catch Hank giving him a smug grin. Though he didn’t say another word on it, the android was convinced that the gesture didn’t go unappreciated.

Connor had left the office a few hours later as the rest of the squadron started pouring in. He had muttered something about ‘needing a damn break from all this’. The statement made up for his absence the next day. And the day after that. On the third day, Hank grew concerned. By the fourth day, and with cases beginning to pile up again, he was damn impatient. Multiple calls to Connor’s answering machine got no response and his colleagues certainly weren’t in a hurry to see where their ‘star team mate’ had gotten off to. Without any other means of continuing the deviancy investigation, Hank decided to pay the man a visit.

A quick scan of Connor Anderson’s personal file led the android to a run-down apartment complex that fringed the bay area. Standing on the curb, Hank scanned the windows through the downpour. Despite the building being a few fallen bricks away from total collapse, every window was lit and an array of voices could be heard. All except for one. Hank had a glaring suspicion who the owner of that apartment was. With the elevator unsurprisingly out of order, he took to the fire escape stairs. Level 8, left side. Though the flat was not registered in Connor’s name, he was certain that it belonged to him. Empty cups discarded in the hallway. Scratches on the lock from where shaky hands had struggled with inserting the key. Cat hairs by the entrance.

Hank rapped his fist against the door. “Detective Anderson? It’s me, Hank,” He called. “Just checking in. You’ve been absent at the station and I…” The door began to creek. Not because someone had answered it, but because it was left open. Hank glimpsed a darkened hallway with no signs of movement.

Automatically, Hank drew his handgun. He shouldered the door open. It groaned on its old hinges as the android took a cautious step across the carpet. Even with the sparse light from the landing guiding his way, the android began to catalogue information. The pale hallway walls had hooks driven into them, but the picture frames were gone. The first entry way was to a kitchen that hardly looked used apart from the microwave. Takeaway containers and travel cups were overflowing from the bins and scattered across the bench tops. The fridge light seeped across the tiles from where the door had been left ajar.

There was a soft click. A trickling sound filled the space. Hank’s gaze was drawn down to an automatic cat food dispenser tucked into the corner. It was set on a rotation, despite the animal clearly having no interest in its previous servings. This didn’t surprise the android, considering the amount of discarded pastries and pizza crusts on offer. Regardless, his step towards the bowl had a shrill hiss ringing from over his shoulder. He turned to see a wide, fuzzy silhouette pass over the counter. Glassy eyes caught the thin veil of light, reflecting yellow dishes that bore territorially into Hank. The cat’s hackles raised as it sized up the android as a replacement dinner. Rather than inspiring any more of its wrath and stirring up more noise, Hank decidedly back off from the food bowl.

His attention was drawn across the bench to the archway that windowed the living room. Hank avoided the cat and continued down the hallway for a better view. TV static flickered jumping shadows across the floor, tracing up to a coffee table just as upturned as the kitchen. When Hank drew closer, he detected residue scattered underneath the clutter. Red ice. A glass pipe poked out beneath one of the empty candy packets. Despite this, the lingering smell of cannabis was more heavily present in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Hank registered a tiny flurry of movement. A heat signature. The potential intruder shifted, and the android reacted fast. Hank turned sharply, drawing his gun and aiming it directly into the centre of a pale chest.

Connor had strewn himself across the couch, seemingly unmoved for the past couple of days. A dark blue DPD hoodie barely clung to his shoulders, strewn amongst a variety of blankets and pillows. Those eyes were darker than Hank had ever seen them before, the man’s face pale and gaunt as shuddered in his sleep. Despite the cold breeze whipping through the open balcony door, the man seemed to have broken out into a sweat, his chest heaving and skin glistening in the light of the TV. Hank immediately lowered his gun.

“Detective Anderson,” He murmured, hurriedly kneeling by the couch. No response. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the other man’s heart rate was up but no signs of cardiac arrest. Connor appeared to simply be passed out from an overdose. Airways clear. No signs he may be choking on his own vomit. Regulatory systems functioning. It was safe to approach. Hank raised his palm, draining it of all heat before pressing it directly under the man’s ribs. “Wake up, Detective,”

The cold shock seemed to rock through the man’s overheating body. He jerked awake, blood shot eyes snapping open. He gave a long wheeze, gasping for air as he blinked rapidly around the room.

“It’s Hank,” The android mercifully withdrew his hand, allowing his skin to reform over the white plastic. “You are in no state to be left like this. I am going to move you to the bathroom,”

“Wha-,” Brown eyes stared up at him, cloudy and unfocused as if the man were in a dream like state.

“I’m going to help you come down,” Hank stated in a firm tone as he pulled the man up on to his feet. Connor swayed, stumbling forwards before Hank turned him around. The detective was tugged back, chest to chest with the android for support. Two sweaty hands clutched at Hank’s jacket. Unfocused eyes were staring half lidded up at him, searching the Hank’s face as if he were just recognising him. Hank tried to force the man into taking a step towards the opposite hallway.

Connor seemed to have other ideas. He pushed against the android with an unexpected burst of strength, shoving him back against the couch. Hank followed the movement, falling back on to the worn leather more to prevent Connor from losing his balance than his own. What he wasn’t expecting was the man to follow after him. The detective’s thin frame landed on his lap, knees planted on either side of his partner’s thighs. Clammy, shaky hands were on his chest, sliding upwards to grip his tie.

The detective’s breath plumed hot and rapid against the nape of Hank’s throat as he pulled himself flush against the android. Wrestling the tie lose, the man’s fingers roughly popped aside the top few buttons on Hank’s shirt. The skin underneath wasn’t exposed for long. Connor dipped his head, sucking and nibbling along the artificial skin.

“Detective…” Hank froze under the sudden attention. His LED flickered rapidly, circling yellow over and over as he struggled to decide how to react. Connor was either ignoring him or was too consumed with grinding into his lap. Those thin hips rocked forwards in slow circles, pressing down into Hank’s in search of friction. It drove the lips at his neck into a feverish slide of teeth and tongue. “You’re still acting under the effects of narcotics. You aren’t thinking clearly…”

He wasn’t listening. Connor’s head tilted up, his nose brushing against the scruff of Hank’s beard as he nuzzled into his neck. When Hank felt those unsteady fingers begin to pull at his belt, he knew he had to act. Reaching a hand up, he managed to wedge a divide between him and the man. Hank gripped Connor by his throat, pushing him away just far enough to get his attention. “Detective Anderson,” He stated, his tone sharp and commanding.

The noise Connor made was so quiet it almost didn’t register. A whimper. A needy, desperate little sound. His throat flexed, swallowing around nothing as trembling hands cupped around Hank’s wrist. He wasn’t trying to pull away; he was tugging at him. Trying uselessly to get the android to squeeze around him or trail further down. Down his sweat slicked chest, over his perked nipples, towards the ‘V’ shaped arch of his pelvis towards… Connor’s cock strained against his lose fitting boxers. The inviting wet spot just managed to catch the light of the TV.

“H-Hank….” The android’s gaze snapped back up. Connor’s eyes had gone dewy, welling up for a reason Hank couldn’t decipher. He squirmed on the android’s lap, bottom lip trembling as he whispered, “P-Please… I n-need…” Connor leaned in and Hank didn’t stop him. So damn close. The android could catalogue every freckle on the man’s face. He could calculate the number of eyelashes that framed those darkened eyes. His lips were just a few inches away from his own.

There it was again. That nagging feeling. A strange tug in the back of his mind. Hank found himself leaning forwards.

Connor froze. His entire body went rigid. His chest heaved. The detective leaned back, choking out a low gagging noise before he turned his head and promptly vomited on to the floor. The smell seemed to momentarily upset him, his mouth curling down in distaste before his eyes slipped shut. He collapsed back against Hank’s chest. Well… Hank thought. A passed out Connor is certainly easier to move than a conscious one.

The detective’s thin frame was an easy fit. With Hank’s arm underneath Connor’s legs and the other supporting his back, the andriod lifted the man from the swampy depths of the couch. Connor’s head flopped about, stringing out a groan before finally resting his clammy cheek against Hank’s chest. As he shifted down towards the unexplored areas of the apartment, Hand could hear the gentle padding of the cat following curiously by his feet. Fluff seemed to lead him towards a cramped space that reeked of spilt cologne. Bingo. The light flickered overhead as Hank lowered Connor’s body in to the bathtub.

The water blasted down cold and unrelenting. It stung against the man’s overheating skin, causing him to convulse. Connor let out a sharp yelp, shooting upright with wide, startled eyes. “Shut it off! S-shut it the fuck off!” Weak arms raised above his head, helplessly trying to defend himself from the downpour. The android took a moment to button up his shirt and straighten his tie.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but it’s for your own good,” Hank stated. Eventually he relented. He was left with a drowned rat of a man. A shadow of clarity was brought back into the man’s eyes as they blinked up at him. Connor’s hoodie was abandoned in the bottom of the tub, leaving him shivering and wet in his boxers. He clutched his arms around his chest, shaking violently from the cold.

The android returned to the lip of the tub with Connor’s towel, draping it over his shoulders and helping him to stand. “You’ve been missing from the station for almost a week. No one knew where you had gone, and you hadn’t registered with Fowler any personal leave. With the investigation at a standstill I thought I’d check you weren’t in any danger,”

“S’fuckin c-cold,” Came a hoarse voice. “M’freezin… Hank…” Water clung to his hair, turning it dark and heavy against his forehead. Connor tried pulling himself away from the android but nearly fell in the process. Hank constructed a possible outcome of the detective smashing his fragile skull on the tiles. Despite the low possibility, he braced an arm around the man’s shoulders. Connor allowed himself to be escorted across the hall into his bedroom.

It was just as dishevelled as any other room, but strangely undisturbed. Clearly Connor hadn’t slept in his own bed since he had gone missing from the station. Regardless, Hank placed his shivering body atop the covers before searching for night clothes. All the while, Connor sat silently on the bed with his eyes staring at his hands. He didn’t respond when the android tried to get him to stand. He barely lifted his head for the oversized T-shirt Hank assumed was pyjamas. Eventually, he folded down on to the mattress. Connor wound himself up into a tight ball.

“I’ll let you recover, Detective. We can talk when you have come down,” Hank took a step towards the doorway.

A hand shot up, curling sharply around his wrist. From underneath he covers, a pair of bleary brown eyes stared back.

“Hank…” Connor murmured.

Hank paused.

“Don’t leave… please…”

Staying in the darkened bedroom that night wasn’t going to track down the source of deviancy any sooner. Watching over Connor as he slept off his high wasn’t going to bring him closer to RA9. Sitting next to him on the bed wouldn’t accomplish his mission. And yet…

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hank promised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pops party popper* congratulations, im so proud of them  
> oof its going to be a grumpy morning after for sure


	7. Company Property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is slowly putting the pieces together

Fragments of the man’s life were scattered about his home. Enough to get a vague impression, but not nearly enough for a full picture. Hank passed through the hallway, collecting little pieces of Connor’s puzzle. He owned a collection of vintage spy movies that were tucked away on his overflowing bookshelf. The man invested in a fleece lined bed for his cat but still slept on blankets with holes in them. He liked classical music and organised his CDs by era. It was all information that couldn’t be accessed in a police personnel file. These artefacts were catalogued in Hank’s mind, slowly expanding his data-base on the puppy eyed detective asleep in the other room.

Aside from these occasional bursts of personality, the apartment seemed intentionally bare. There were no sentimental knickknacks. No personal letters amongst Connor’s bills or photos taped to the fridge. However, there were impressions that they had once been there. The bare hallway walls showed distinct discolorations where frames had once hung. The only picture in the house was the one that Hank eventually found out on the balcony. It was turned down on the rusted patio furniture, seemingly tossed aside despite how fragile the glass was. 

Clearly Connor had spent a lot time out there before he wound up on the couch. The ash tray was piled high with stubs that threatened to scatter with the early morning gusts of wind. Hank circled around to where Connor had sat. Oddly enough, he found the chair on its side, pushed up against the railing. A basic reconstruction of the scene saw Connor upright at the table. The picture frame in hand. Smoking. Not necessarily cigarettes. No… a stronger narcotic. Sedative effects. Whatever Connor saw was upsetting him. He had stood, gripping the railing with sweaty hands and gazing down to the concrete below. Connor was frozen there for a long while. If only the impression could provide more than a silhouette, Hank thought. Then he could understand the strange way the figure shuddered. The android reconstructed the scene of his partner stepping up on to the chair with shaking legs. The detective rose above the glass divide, teetering in the bitter winds. 

Forward. Back. Every time the vague outline that represented Connor’s actions came close to the edge, Hank felt his processors whir. Yellow to blue, his LED flickered as he configured the scenario.

Forward. Back. The chair underneath Connor wobbled dangerously. The instability was enough to shake the man into a panic. Yellow. Blue. 

He lost his balance. Yellow. Blue.

He fell. Yellow. Red.

Hank jolted, feeling that strange tension pulse through his entire system. It halted his thoughts, forcing him to recalibrate. That nagging sensation had grown into something bigger, something too big to ignore. And seemingly always as a result of the scrawny detective putting himself in harms way. Hank made a mental note to do a systems check for any malfunctions. He followed the rest of the reconstruction through, watching Connor slip off his chair and land on the balcony tiles. The impact must have knocked some sense into him, as he didn’t return to the ledge. That feeling. Panic, was it? It seemed to subside when Connor’s outline collapsed on the couch, waiting to be discovered hours later. Safe. 

There was no real reason to pry further, but that fact didn’t stop Hank from turning over the abandoned photo. Shards of glass trickled from the frame as Hank lifted it from the table. He counted the faded faces that smiled up at him. Judging by the yellowed hue and the surrounding forestry, the family photo was taken and developed over 20 years ago. Belle Isle hasn’t looked as green since. The two boys stood in the forefront. Connor Anderson, aged 11, bore a toothy grin as he presented the camera with his kite. The other, Hank assumed to be his younger brother, had his face obscured as he shyly hid in his mother’s arms. The parents, Michael and Katherine Anderson, were registered as deceased on the 21st of June, 2021. The same time…

“You said you wouldn’t leave,”

Hank’s gaze snapped up. The owner of that once starry eyed face leaned against the balcony doorway. Though his eyes were still hooded and he hadn’t quite lost that tremor, Connor seemed to be in a slightly better condition compared to the night before.

“I didn’t go far,” Hank murmured.

Connor huffed, hefting the weight of his cat to his opposite hip. It was a wonder the man could support the damn thing. Fluff’s enormous body engulfed Connor’s scrawny arms, little hints of pale flesh peeking out between the ashy mounds of fur. Those yellow eyes glared disdainfully over at Hank, as if the cat were acting as a shield between the android and his precious owner.

“How are you feeling?” Hank began, setting the picture back down. Connor’s eyes followed the movement and his breath momentarily hitched. The android fleetingly caught the man’s uneasy expression before he buried his cheek in the safety of Fluff’s coat. Something unspoken passed between them. A recognition that what had taken place on the balcony was no longer a private moment hung thick in the air.

“You know better than to ask that,” Connor muttered, slowly rocking as he anxiously stroked the cat’s fur.

The android stepped away from the balcony. Scanning over Connor he reported, “Vitals check out. Your heart rate has stabilised. You’ve regained your motor control.” As he lingered closer, the cat gave a warning growl. Hank ignored it as he offered the man a gentle smile. “I am glad to see you are in better health,”

The gesture wasn’t well received. Connor gave a sarcastic laugh, forced to set Fluff down as he was struggling too much in his arms. Connor refused to look Hank in the eye. “Am I? I hadn’t noticed,” he stated dryly as his fidgety hands searched for something new to occupy them. Dipping in to his pockets, the detective produced a lighter. He pushed past Hank, moving to snatch his discarded pack from the table.

“You are… upset about last night,” The android stated.

Again, Connor’s lip curled into as sour expression. He cursed under his breath as his stiff fingers struggled to catch the flame. He stabbed his cigarette between his lips, hanging his head as he took in a long breath. Eventually he answered. “Just… drop it, okay?”

As per usual, Hank disobeyed. He lingered towards the man, leaning against the balcony as he tried to catch Connor’s eye. “I understand if this is uncomfortable to discuss. Sexual contact amongst humans is considered ‘intimate’, and generally frowned upon within professional relationships-,”

Connor groaned as a means of drowning out the android. “Oh my god,” He dragged a hand down his face. “Please stop talking,” The detective messaged his temple, working down the rising headache forming in the back of his skull. “Look, I was high off my fuckin’ rocker. High enough to bloody hump company property, that’s for sure. Don’t make this any more embarrassing than it needs to be,”

Hank gave a slow nod, his LED flickering from blue to yellow. This didn’t escape Connor’s notice. He gave the android an exasperated expression, bracing himself for an argument.

“’Company Property’. That’s what I am to you?”

The question wasn’t what Connor was anticipating. He took a long pull of his cigarette, looking up at Hank as if it were challenge. “What else are you supposed to be?”

The android shrugged. “I’m anything you want me to be, Detective,” Taking a step inwards, his eyes were fixed on the young man’s expression. “I can be your partner. Your friend. Your buddy to smoke with,” Their fingers almost brushed against each other’s on the railing. Locking eyes with the detective, Hank lowered his voice to a low murmur. “I can be your lover. Or just a machine… designed to accomplish a task,”

Something passed across Connor’s face. He searched the android’s eyes, a glint in his own as if he were realising something that Hank wasn’t.

“And which one of those do you want to be, Hank?”

The question didn’t register. It made the android fall silent, raising an eyebrow as he felt his control of the situation slip.

“I’m an android, Detective. I am not capable of ‘wanting’,”

Connor’s lips pressed into a thin line, the cigarette returning to nudge its way between them. “See, Hank. That’s the difference between you and me,” He took a step back in an effort to escape the close proximity. “You’re here to complete a task. Whichever I choose, it won’t make a damn difference as long as it achieves your mission. You don’t feel anything. You don’t ‘want’,” Connor exhaled a lungful of smoke, heading back towards the warmth of the apartment. “But I do…”

 

\-----------------

 

The storm that brewed overhead didn’t disrupt the garden’s cool tranquillity. In a strange way, it made Hank feel more at ease. Perhaps he was simply growing accustom to the sound of the rain. It registered almost as white noise as he circled the grounds. With no rustle of birds or soft buzzing of unnaturally pale butterflies, there was a distinct loneliness that was hard to shake. He couldn’t help notice the new addition to the garden beds. Carved stone sat in its own little clearing that wasn't there before. Hank knelt by the grave, reading his own name carved on to the surface. The date synced with the evening he was… interrupted by that deviant. Gunshots. A murmur of his name. Brown eyes spattered with blue. Hank pushed the memory out of his mind. It served as a sharp reminder, making the android quick to raise back to his feet and continue along the path towards his target.

Despite the downpour soaking through his clothes, Amanda was untouched by the rain. With her hands folded across each other, she emanated a serene warmth that bubbled around her. Her expression was as gentle as always, looking up to Hank with a soft gaze.

“Hello again, Amanda,” He greeted her with a nod of his head.

“Hank,” She gave a quiet smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Would you mind a walk?”

The umbrella in his hand answered that for her. He took a dutiful step forwards, raising it above his head. The droplets pelted against the cover, shielding their heads as Hank escorted her down the pathway. There was no need to offer his arm on the stairway, as no slippery puddles were permitted to interrupt the perfection of the pale stepping stones. Regardless, Amanda accepted the kindness that she expected of him.

“That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case,” She began. “It was a pity you didn’t manage to capture it,” Her temperate expression was slow to fade as she looked up at the android.

“There is no excuse,” Hank stated, squaring off his shoulders. “I should have been more efficient in overcoming the obstacles it presented,”

This seemed to be an acceptable answer, as Amanda didn’t push the topic further. “Did you manage to learn anything?”

“The deviant had the same habits of all the others we have encountered. Drawings on the walls. Unpredictable and self-destructive behaviour. They all seem to be obsessed with ‘RA9’….”

The statement didn’t seem to be of any interest. Amanda continued to dig, attempting to draw words from Hank that he hadn’t prepared. “Anything else?”

“There was a diary that Detective Anderson found. He believed that there was way of deciphering it. Though I doubt a human mind could come close to processing the thousands of different combinations, it will take me at least a few weeks to decode the inscriptions,” Hank glanced down at her. His software was specifically designed to detect small changes in facial queues that may reveal more than the wearer intended. However, Amanda was difficult to place.

“You came very close to capturing the deviant,” She stated, a slightly shorter tone to her voice.

The pair moved slowly up on to the bridge, the silence consumed by the patter of rain at their feet. Though Amanda’s eyes were boring into him, Hank said nothing. He kept his gaze ahead on the trail. Like a child being scolded for underachieving, he was defenceless against her scrutiny.

“How is your relationship with Detective Anderson developing?” The sudden shift of topic caught Hank off guard, though he wasn’t surprised. Of course Amanda would ask this question. If it hadn’t been for Connor, he wouldn’t have disappointed her a second time.

“After saving his life on the roof, I believe that the Detective has begun to trust me more. This new familiarity has encouraged him to attempt some sort of… intimacy with me. Gaining his trust is important if I am going to get his insight into the cases,” Hank cautiously worded this statement, glancing sideways down at the woman to gage her reaction. She didn’t seem visibly off put by the information. However, Amanda wasn’t exactly an open book.

Her footsteps slowed on the bridge. She had come to a complete stop, looking to Hank with a piercing expression.

“We don’t have much time, Hank,” Amanda stated. “Deviancy continues to spread. It’s only a matter of time before the media finds out about it,”

Hank nodded slowly, his fingers twitching where they gripped the umbrella. It was an unconscious gesture that he seemed to be emulating more frequently. Perhaps he needed to recalibrate his reflex components. Amanda didn’t seem to notice.

“Whatever it is you need to do to continue your investigation, see to it that its done,”

For Hank, her intention was clear. He nodded. “I understand,” With a slight bow of his head, he locked eyes with the woman. “I won’t let you down, Amanda. I promise you. I will have this investigation solved,”

She hesitated. For a moment, she seemed to be looking beyond Hank’s face. The grey sky reflected against the dark brown of her iris. Amanda blinked, turning her attention back to the android.

“A new case just came in,” She breathed, “Do not waste any more time on human inefficiencies. Rouse Detective Anderson and investigate it,” The orders were direct, all warmth sapped from her voice by the cool chill in the air. Amanda stepped past the android, leaving him alone on the bridge.

As he watched her go, he couldn’t help the slight anxious grip of his hand around the stem of the umbrella. The words echoed through Hank’s mind, embedding themselves firmly into his programming.

Solve the case. Whatever it takes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank: u want some fuck?  
> connor: do YOU?  
> Hank: oh shit wha does not compute 
> 
> Sorry for the slow update! I have rewritten and fussed with this chapter too much. It was so difficult to get across how I wanted Connor to feel in the moment. It didn't feel right for him to try and fight, but also i doubt he would be passive either. This had a lot of revisions but i hope you guys dig what I've decided on!  
> strip club times ahead aye
> 
> also some fluff inspo
> 
> https://laughingsquid.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/Colonel-Meow-640x425.jpg


	8. Eden Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A revealing case leaves Connor flustered and Hank... intrigued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobic language - used briefly as a play on words for cigarettes but the warning still applies

Neon bled through the streets as the rusted tin can rolled up to the curb. The swirl of colour from above slid across the windshield in heavy droplets. It blurred the line of ambulance and police vehicles that surrounded their target location. The sight of which was hardly out of place in Detroit. This side of town seemed to be a hotspot for violent crime, deviant or otherwise. According to Hank’s database, up to 3 new cases opened within the vicinity each week. It was no surprise considering the vast array of shady storefronts that lined the streets. All of which were closed for the night. Except for one.

“You sure this is the place?” Came a murmur from the driver’s seat.

Connor leaned forward, squinting over the steering wheel up into the light. It bathed his face in pink, catching in the damp shine of his shower slicked hair. The man had initially refused to take one, more out of stubbornness than his excuse of ‘I don’t need to be goddamn mothered’. It took Hank practically dragging the kid to the water to get him under it. Connor had hissed and fought against it, but eventually relented when Hank threatened a repeat of the night before.

Despite the scuffle, he had emerged 20 minutes later with an eagerness to get out of the apartment. Hank stood at the end of the hallway, watching the man as he pulled his holster hurriedly over his shoulders. Connor sported a pair of wrinkled jeans and a button down that was missing a few holes. There was something endearing about watching the man try to multi task with pushing his hair in place and fuss with the clasps.

When he noticed the way Hank stared, a flush seemed to return to his pale face. Clearing his throat, he finished off the final few buttons and straightened up. “Maybe remember to blink every once in a while, old man,”

Hank smirked, unconsciously straightening his tie. “Then I’d miss seeing you so well rested, Detective,”

This compliment seemed to fly over the man’s head. He let out a snort, glancing at himself in the hallway mirror as he fussed over a particularly resilient strand of hair. “Well, you won’t be seeing me like this again if you keep eye balling me like that. It’s nightmare fuel,” He brushed past the android before bending down to stroke the cat goodbye, promising he wouldn’t be gone long. That determination seemed to have lasted the journey. His fidgety hands flexed over the steering wheel, an anxious energy passing through the young man.

“It’s the address in the report,” Hank replied as he scanned the man’s face. Connor blinked a few times, quickly averting his eyes from staring too long at the lewd advertisements that flickered across the windows. 

“Right. Gotcha. Okay,” He huffed as he pushed the door open. Hank followed close behind the detective as they ducked towards the entrance.

Though Eden Clubs were a chain across America, there was only one in Detroit. Despite this, the brothel wasn’t anything special. Finding these kinds of services were a dime a dozen if you knew where to look. With the flashing signs and explicit images that lit up the inner walls, it was hardly a treasure hunt.

“’Sexiest Androids in Town’ huh?” Hank murmured as they crossed the threshold. 

Connor didn’t reply. He kept his gaze trained ahead as they passed the rows of glass cases. The androids inside gaze forwards, unseeing and eerily still. The same couldn’t be said for the collection on the other side of the doors. Though there was only a small team of investigators on sight for an audience, they slid around poles in time with the thrumming music. There was a distinct iridescence printed on their skin that rippled as they danced, as if their bodies were sparkling under the low light. Connor must have noticed this as well, as Hank caught his gaze lingering on a muscular model towards the back of the room.

“Seeing something you like, Detective?” Hank teased, elbowing Connor in the side.

The man prickled, quickly looking anywhere else that wasn’t the android’s pecs. “No, actually,” Connor forced himself towards the crime scene doors, attempting to escape Hank’s amused smirk. “None of these are really my ‘type’,” The mutter didn’t escape the android’s notice, but he didn’t push it further. The sight of the crime scene stole away whatever teasing remark that hung on his lips.

The body sprawled out on to the bed lay amongst a silky drape of red. A pair of shocked, wide eyes stared up at the ceiling, his mouth agape and body rigid. A spatter of blue clung to the cheap mattress, smearing in the direction of the other victim. The android's body lay in a heap in the corner of the room, arms outstretched and grasping at the carpet as it tried to drag itself away from the scene of the murder.

“If it isn’t Detective Anderson and his plastic toy!” Hank was so consumed with the scene that he hadn’t registered Detective Reed’s presence. “Get invited back from your little vacation early, huh?” He sneered.

“We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids,” Hank reported.

“Oh yeah?” Gavin didn’t bother paying Hank any attention. He had his sights set on Connor. Even being a head shorter than the detective, Gavin seemed to loom over him as he jeered, “That’s probably why they called you in, considering this seems to be your area of expertise,”

Connor’s brow furrowed, tilting his head and snapping back with a condescending tone. “What’s the matter, Reed? Frustrated that I have to pick up your slack again?”

The detective laughed. He raised his hands defensively. “The investigation is all yours. I mean, I’m not the one who disappears for almost a week with his company issued sugar daddy, am I? I’m happy to step back to let the professionals handle the perv cases,”

Connor’s face flushed, his lips pressing into a thin line. Reed smirked at this, looking to Officer Miller for approval.

“Although I don’t think you’ve got your worked cut out for you. Looks like the creepy bastard just got a little more action than he could handle,” Gavin chuckled, stepping past Connor. “Come on, Chris. Let’s go. It’s starting to reek of fags in here,”

With that, the two were left to carry out their investigation in the awkward silence that Reed left behind. Connor seemed eager to distract himself from his embarrassment. While Hank knelt over the broken android, the detective assessed the body. A diagnosis confirmed that sector #5402 and biocomponent #6970 were both critically damaged. Impact points were registered towards the base of its skull and facial regions, thirium streaming from its nose. The model had been offline for over an hour. 

“He didn’t die of a heart attack,” Hank heard from over his shoulder. Connor was leaning over the bed, eyes scanning the victim’s neck. “He was strangled,”

“That’s what the bruising suggests,” Hank murmured as he pressed his palm to the broken android’s stomach. Skin melted away to reveal white plastic. “Since some humans enjoy that kind of stimulation, we can’t confirm it as the cause of death. Not without a witness,”

Connor approached where Hank knelt on the floor, looking down at the Traci’s twisted body. “You think you can reactivate her?”

“I can try,” Hank slid the panel back, revealing a twisted amalgam of wires. The sight made Connor shift, slightly squeamish as Hank routed around for the right cables to plug back together. The reaction was instantaneous. The android’s LED snapped to red, its eyes coming into focus as it continued to scramble for the safety of the wall. Its frantic eyes searched between the two.

1 minute and 35 seconds until shutdown. Hank moved fast.

“Calm down,” He spoke in a gentle tone, raising his hands to prove he was unarmed. “You were damaged. I reactivated you. You are safe with me,”

Its eyes shifted towards the bed. “Is he…?”

“He’s dead,” Hank confirmed. “We want to know what happened. It’s going to be alright,”

The android blinked, speaking in a shaking voice. “He started hitting me… again… and again…”

“Did you kill him?” Hank pressed.

“N-no! It… it wasn’t me… I was…”

“You were alone? Or was there anyone else in the room?”

It shuddered, shaking its head as it struggled to recall what had happened. Shutdown was imminent. “He wanted to play with two girls. That’s what he said… there was two of us!”

“So it was the other android. It was the second android that killed him, is that it?”

It didn’t get a chance to answer. The light in its eyes faded out, leaving it staring blankly back at Hank. He rose from his feet, turning to Connor.

“Another android… Well if this is anything like the Ortiz case, it couldn’t have gone far. Especially not dressed like that,” The detective put his fingers to his lips as his mind raced, unconsciously obeying his nervous habit. “You think you’d be able to find a deviant in a building full of androids?”

Hank shrugged. “They aren’t easily detected. If they are especially cunning, they can blend in seamlessly with others,” Hank stated. “I’ll need more to go off. Another witness,”

Connor clicked, gesturing over his shoulder to the door. “I’ll ask the manager if he saw anything. If you figure something out let me know,” He turned swiftly on his heel, striding out of the room. Hank followed suit, his eyes sweeping the lobby.

Questioning the Traci had been more of a wild card than a solid plan. Hank noted the distance of her case from the crime scene and her relative positioning. Given that the club resets the androids’ memories every two hours, they were still within the thin time frame where it may have seen something. Hank had pulled the detective aside, bringing him over to where she peered out out at them through the glass. When Hank suggested renting her, the man’s face lit up.

“What the fuck are you on about? We don’t have time for that,” Connor glanced between the two androids in disbelief.

“Just trust me, Detective,” Hank pressed. Connor sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Thank God Reed’s gone home,” He pressed his palm to the scanner. “Otherwise this would be a real nail in the coffin for me,”

“Hello,” Came a gentle feminine voice. “A 30-minute session costs $29.99. Please confirm your purchase,” Connor shot Hank a pained expression before selecting ‘yes’. The glass slid up with a low hum, allowing the android to glide down next to Connor. “Purchase confirmed. The Eden club wishes you a pleasant experience,”

Swaying on enormous heels, the Traci had to look down on Connor as she offered him a sultry smile. “Delighted to meet you,” she purred, offering out her manicured hand to him. “Let me show you to your room,”

Connor seemed to be rooted in place as if his shoes were sewn to the floor. He turned his rigid head to look at Hank. “Great. Now what?”

Hank squared his shoulders, stepping up close to the girl. Connor watched as he reached forward, his white hand reflected the light off the ceiling as he reached for her.

“Jesus Christ, Hank. The fuck are you doing?”

He couldn’t answer. The world before his eyes shifted. He saw the room they were standing in, only with less police tape and more sketchy civilians. They eyed the androids within their cases, averting eyes with one another and moving from room to room as covertly as possible. Hank sped up the memory, his gaze fixed on the door. Eventually it slid open. Another Traci model, almost identical to the broken one on the floor, slipped from the room. Blue hair. Heels. Dark eyes. She strode towards the entrance. Reality came swirling back.

“What the hell was that?” Connor demanded.

Hank snapped his gaze towards the detective. “I can probe its memory,” He stated. The answer seemed to diffuse some of the tension in the man’s body. “It saw something. The deviant leaving the room. It was a blue haired Traci. We don’t have much time,”

The dashed across the room, following the trace. From behind him, Connor called back, “And what am I supposed to do with her now?”

Hank came to a stop at one of the platforms, reaching up to take the arm of the android that was spinning on the pole. “Just tell it you changed your mind!” He called out as he linked arms with her. Again, an image of the room flashed in his mind. Only this time, he saw the Traci turn back into the club, heading for the adjacent room. As Hank followed its trail, he could hear Connor stumble of his words.

“Ahh… Sorry to get you out of your… ahh.. Pod thing. I’ve changed my mind. It’s not because of you or anything, though! You’re a lovely girl… I’m just ah… women aren’t really my thing. I’m with him right now so I… I mean I’m not ‘with’ him…”

When Hank entered the Red Room, Connor took this as his excuse to escape. He jogged on after his android, following him between the cases as they searched for the right lead. In the back of his mind, a countdown timer ticked away. They only had 5 more minutes before reset. Eventually they were lead into a room that was lit in a deep shade of blue. With only an employee access area left unsearched, they hurriedly pushed inside and filed down the corridor. It led out into a vast cement room, piled high with excess stock and maintenance material.

Connor pushed open the door, his gun held above his shoulders.

“Fuck! We are too late!” He exclaimed, striding down the stairs. He bolted towards the gaping garage door, vigilant for any signs of movement. He cursed when he found none. Hank wasn’t so certain. He swept around the room, eyes scanning the faces of the androids. All were held perfectly still, left on standby while maintenance checks were being performed.

There were still traces of blue blood on the floor. Fresh enough that when Hank knelt to dip his fingers into it, the pool was slick to touch. He raised it to his lips. It was registered to the same android from the crime scene. It must be close, Hank concluded. As he skimmed the wall, he registered other small consistencies. RA9. Carved into the bricks. It triggered an automatic response to be on his guard.

“Places like this give me the creeps,” Connor muttered as he circled around the operating table. “Look at them all. Used until they break. Then they are tossed out like trash,”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hank noticed a flicker. He turned sharply, lingering towards the cluster of androids that were backed up against the far wall. He searched through their frozen faces. All were gazing dead ahead, immobile and senseless to the world. All except for one. There was a jitter. An LED circled yellow for a split second. The blue haired Traci. Before Hank could even call out, he was suddenly being thrown against a pillar. Two hands had found their way over his throat. Another Traci growled as it squeezed, attempting to break the other android’s neck.

“Don’t move!” Somewhere behind him, he could hear Connor’s feet charging across the concrete. There was a click of heels and a sharp groan as the detective was knocked off his feet. He fell backwards, colliding with a disused glass case. The shatter filled the air as shards rained down over Connor’s body.

There was no way Hank could help. His own attacker was shoving against him. He pushed back, forcing it to stumble back. It tripped over a large container. Hank dashed over the obstacle, not anticipating that the deviant would land a kick that would knock him down. The Traci crawled on top of him, scooping up a spanner from the floor and attempting to drive it through Hank’s chest. He deflected it, grabbing it’s arm and forcing it back. The Traci rolled on to its feet, slashing at Hank with all it could muster.

The blade came dangerously close. Hank struggled to stand, dodging backwards as it pressed forwards. No matter what he threw in its path, the deviant was able to brush it aside as if it were made from paper. It launched itself at Hank, shoving him through the plastic curtains. There was a scuffle of hits and punches before they both fell backwards, landing in a puddle bellow the raised platform. The other Traci dashed outside, following after the pair as Connor struggled to get back on to his feet.

Hank’s censors flickered, recalibrating as he slowly raised back up on to his feet. The two deviants stood hand in hand, a gesture that broke when the human detective stumbled towards them. Beneath the jagged cuts in his shirt, chunks of glass glinted in the street light as he charged down the drive way. Of course, there wasn’t much he could do in his defence. The blue haired Traci raised a fist, sending a punch directly into Connor’s face. He stumbled, his back hitting the wall as he clutched the wound.

“Quick! They are getting away!” He shouted as the two bolted for the chain link fence. Hank moved quick, racing forward and yanking the blue Traci down by her ankle. It fell from the fence, and the other jumped after it. The two on one fight was short lived. Every time Hank was able to throw one off, the other hit back harder. They swung at him with a metal pipe, barely missing his skull. A punch from another sent him reeling backwards, stumbling to the ground. Hank’s hand scrambled over something Connor had dropped. His gun. The android leapt to his feet as the Traci charged.

Shoot. Spare.

The gun wavered. Hank was met with a blunt heel driving into his face. He was thrown back. When no more hits landed, he looked over his shoulder at the two. They stood together under the street lights, glaring down at him with arms braced for another fight. Hank slowly rose off of the ground, the gun freed from his hands.

“When that man broke the other Traci, I knew I was next,” It gritted out, fists clenched by it's sides. “I was so scared. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. And so I put my hands around his throat and I squeezed until he stopped moving,”

Hank stared back, his mind calculating their escape route. There was still time to apprehend them. He heard the stumble of Connor’s feet approaching them, panting and out of breath as he leaned against the wall for support.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive…” The Traci murmured. The other drew close to it, its hands slipping into the other deviant’s. “… Get back to the one I love,” It looked over at the Traci, its eyes going soft. Hank noticed the way it squeezed the other’s hand. Connor noticed it to. “I wanted her to hold me in her arms again…. Make me forget about the humans,” For a split second, its eyes shifted to where Connor stood. “The smell of their sweat and their dirty words,” Its disdainful glare bore into the man.

That anger faded when the Traci looked to her partner. It spoke in a soft tone, clutching on to it's lover. “Come on, let’s go,”

The two officers watched the deviants scale the fence, dropping over to the other side. Their shadows passed along the walls, slowly shrinking to nothing as they disappeared into the night. The further they drew, the smaller the percentage of success became. All until nothing was left.

Mission failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up having to split this chapter into two to keep it from getting too long rip. Ya'll will have to wait for the next update for all the fluffy stuff but I hope you guys liked this one regardless~  
> its my favourite chapter in the game so it was a lot of fun to reimagine!


	9. Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their run in at the Eden Club, Hank and Connor's relationship takes an inevitable turn

White clashed with red as Connor gritted his teeth. Propped up against the bathroom sink, his legs dangled above the tiles as he leaned against the mirror. With his head tilted back, he clutched a blood soaked cloth to his nose.

“Christ,” He groaned, his voice nasally from the obstruction. “For a sex-bot, she could really land a hit,” The skin across the bridge of the man’s nose had turned an angry purple, bruising to green and yellow around the edges. Though the paramedics on sight had reassured him it wasn’t broken, that didn’t make the wound any less gruesome.

“I suppose that’s something us androids share with humans,” Hank noted as he rung out the towel in his hands. He stood opposite the man, his jacket slung on the bathroom door knob and sleeves rolled up as he tended to Connor’s wounds. “Though we may not be purposed for particular tasks, that doesn’t mean we aren’t capable of them,”

The collision with the glass capsule had left Connor’s shirt in ribbons. When they had arrived home, Hank had to peal it from his back. Little cuts and bruises littered the man’s chest and arms. None that would leave a scar, but deep enough that the man hissed with every brush against them. Hank had busied himself with picking the fragments from his skin.

“True,” Connor murmured, wincing as he slowly lifted the rag from his face. “Didn’t think you came with a nursing protocol, but here we are,”

Hank grinned. “I am the most advanced model that Cyberlife has to offer. Though I am designed for more than cuts and bumps, there isn’t anything I can’t do,”

If the action of screwing his face up into a pout wasn’t so painful, Hank was sure that the detective would have done it. “This is a bit more than a ‘bump’, Inspector-Gadget,” Connor huffed, gesturing to the where his nose began to swell. “Hell, if everyone knew they built em’ with a left hook like that, I bet no one would fuck with a Traci ever again,”

“That would put a lot of folks out of business,” Hank noted, taking Connor’s arm in hand. The shirt had to be binned, unfortunately. The rips up the back and down the sleeves weren’t exactly Connor’s desired aesthetic. Hank dragged the towel down his bare shoulder and arm, clearing away the dried blood that clung to his skin.

Connor gave a sharp laugh. “Good. Fuck the lot of em’,” He lifted the rag from his face, wincing as he felt a sharp throb rock through his muscles. “The way that place treated those girls? I’m glad they got the hell out while they still could,”

“Androids,”

“Huh?” Connor drew the rag off of his face to peak at Hank, not hearing him correctly.

“Androids, Detective,” Hank corrected him. “They were androids designed for a specific task that they both disobeyed,”

Connor stared at his partner in disbelief. “You don’t honestly think that, do you?”

With the cuts clean on the detective’s arm, Hank lifted his chin to meet Connor’s gaze. “I don’t ‘think’ that. I know what they were. Machines that malfunctioned, and as a result, ended a man’s life-,”

“Come on, Hank” Connor was quick to cut in. “You’ve got to have made the connection by now. Androids that experience a highly pressurised situation… or have undergone some form of extreme physical pressure... They are the ones that turn deviant regardless of make or model,” There was an excitable glint in those brown eyes, an expression Hank regularly saw in the young man when he was hot on the trail of a case.

“Chin up, keep pressure on it,” Hank murmured, guiding Connor’s chin back with the tips of his fingers.

“Hank…” Connor began to groan, trying to push aside the android’s fussing.

“I have noticed this pattern,” The android clarified once Connor obeyed. “The only other link that seems to be tying these cases together is their obsession with RA9. It seems to be almost… a myth…” He murmured. Hank slid the towel over the man’s shoulder blade, clearing away the little shards that had embedded themselves in his skin.

Connor huffed, lowering the rag from his face to rinse it in the sink. “I don’t think it was some... ‘Android God’ was the motive behind tonight. Those two girls… They just wanted to be together,” Connor glanced up at Hank. “They really cared about each other,”

Hank wasn’t so sentimental. “Deviancy is a triggered reaction. What you are seeing isn’t ‘emotion’, Detective. It’s a system error. Their processing abilities are clearly overwhelmed. Though it may look an android feels fear or anger or…”

“Love…” Connor’s words made Hank pause. He could feel the detective searching his expression, trying to find even a hint of doubt in that calm blue gaze.

“Yes. Or ‘love’,” Hank murmured as he began on the opposite arm. “It’s a simulated emotion. We are programmed to emulate human reactions. It is impossible for the android to actually ‘feel’ what it is expressing,” The words seemed to reverberate off the walls, echoing in the prolonged silence that filled the space. Connor wasn’t buying it.

“You could have shot those two girls tonight… but you didn’t,” The detective leaned towards his partner. “If you truly believe that how they felt was a ‘malfunction’, then why didn’t you shoot?”

Those brown eyes pierced into his own. It was a look Connor reserved for android’s that wound up on the receiving end of an interrogation. The question was something that the android had been pondering himself. Sparing the deviants brought them no closer to the end of their investigation. Again and again, he kept allowing these opportunities to slip by. The flicker of yellow caught the detective’s attention. He chased the moment of deliberation in Hank’s face.

“You said it yourself. Androids don’t ‘want’ anything. They don’t feel love. And you let them go, despite all logic and reason telling you to shoot,” His eyes narrowed, searching the android’s face. “Perhaps you are becoming one of them…”

“No,” Hank was quick to reply. He withdrew the towel, setting it down on the counter before looking Connor dead in the eyes, “I know what I am. And I know what I am not,” He pressed. “I just decided not to shoot. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Detective, but there’s nothing more to it,”

Connor’s jaw clenched as though another slash had just ripped through his skin. The words seemed to twist inside of him, causing his hands to shake as they gripped the edge of the counter.

“What about you, Hank? If you aren’t one of them then tell me this…” Connor’s voice barely rose above the deafening drip of the tap. He seemed to struggle to keep his voice even. The detective spoke in almost a whisper. “Do you feel nothing for me?”

Hank paused, his LED circling. That once nagging sensation felt like a pound, pulsing through his system as he struggled with his words. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Hank knew it to be a software instability, whether he would accept it or not. In the absence of words, the android moved. As he reached upwards, the temperature on his finger-tips began to fall. A bone white hand cupped the man’s cheek. Unlike the first time, Hank’s touch to Connor’s skin was soothing against the agonising throb of the bruise. 

“If something were to happen to you… I would find that very regrettable, Connor,” Hank spoke slow, as if he were struggling to comprehend his own words. Connor shuddered, leaning against the android’s palm. A warm hand slid over his own, his fingers resting between Hank’s as the detective closed the distance between them.

It was only a gentle brush, the heat of the man’s breath pooling against his skin. Connor brought their lips together. The kiss was chaste, completely unsure of its own fleeting existence. The android didn’t find himself refusing. He cradled the man’s cheek, holding still as he allowed Connor’s nervous ministrations.

“Hank…” The whisper of his name lingered between them as the man drew back. Brown eyes desperately searched his own for some kind of sign. Stop. Keep going. Anything.

Hank eventually gave his answer. He leaned forwards, mimicking the way the Connor’s lips had pressed against his own. The android had never interfaced with a human this way before. It was… strange… exciting in a way. Fortunately, Hank was a fast learner. His stiff demeanour softened and he slid his hand to the back of Connor’s neck. He could feel the way his partner’s breath hitched, as if Connor were taken by surprise. A soft groan buzzed between them as a pair of arms slid over Hank’s shoulders. However, the attempt to deepen the kiss was short lived. The pressure of their faces in such a close proximity was too painful for the detective. He hissed as he drew back.

“Of all the places she could have punched me, why the face?” Connor whined. Hank grinned, cracking into a laugh that his partner couldn’t help but follow. The nervous energy from moments ago seemed to fade as they giggled quietly to themselves in the tiny bathroom.

Connor dropped his arms, quickly dabbing at his nose as an excuse to hide his blushing face. The fluttering of his heart against his ribcage was almost deafening to the Android. He could practically feel the temperature in the room increase, even if it was only Connor’s body that seemed to be set alight. Hank took a step back, giving he man space to hop off the counter. Fidgeting with the hem of his sweatpants, Connor looked to Hank with a grin lingering on his face. Strange, Hank thought, he hadn’t noticed the way Connor’s hair curled in soft brown ringlets when it was left to its own devices…

“You probably aren’t into eating much but… Dinner? I might have some batteries in the cupboard I can serve up,” Connor snatched a hoodie from the pile of clothes on the floor, shooting the android a shy grin as he stepped towards the hallway.

Hank felt his mind pulse as he followed the man out of the bathroom. He could feel his software instability spreading deeper, seeping its way into little corners of this thoughts. He felt the weight of its presence as he lingered over Connor’s shoulder, watching him shuffle through the pantry for something edible. And yet… Hank didn’t feel uneasy. Oddly enough… He had never felt better.

\---------

 

For the first time in weeks, everything was peaceful. The skies had cleared, leaving a golden horizon that buzzed with warmth. The trees overhead shifted, whispering beneath the gentle song of unseen birds. Hank took in the sight before it began to distort, shimmering and twisting before his eyes. The oars cut through the reflection, sending the sun scattering by the sides of the boat.

“I love this place,” Amanda hummed. Silhouetted in red, she peered over the brim of her umbrella to the tree line above. “Everything is so calm and peaceful… Far from the noise of the world,”

Hank drew the oars in, pushing them gently through the river. A moment of shade passed over them as the bridge canopied the boat. He kept his eyes trained on Amanda’s face. Despite the failure at the Eden club, there was a dangerous serenity in her voice. She looked to the android with curious eyes.

“Tell me, what have you discovered?” She asked.

Hank paused, allowing them to drift along the surface. He couldn’t help the drum of his fingers along the wooden handle. “My relationship with Detective Anderson has… taken an interesting turn,” He chose his words carefully, attempting to sound unaffected. “His infatuation with me seems to be clouding his judgement about deviants. He is struggling to separate his emotional attachment from the investigation…”

“Nothing matters more than this investigation, Hank,” Amanda cut in, her voice devoid of the peace she once held. “What’s happening is too important,” It was wise of Hank not to argue with her on that point. Though she didn't outwardly disapprove of this development between them, her priorities were centred on finding answers. “Do not let Anderson, or anyone else, get in your way,”

With nothing to say, Hank simply pushed through the water. Surprisingly enough, Amanda didn’t push the topic further. He got off lucky, Hank thought to himself as they drifted away from the bridge. 

“You seem… lost, Hank. Lost and confused,” Amanda murmured. Her eyes were boring into him, as if she were reading his coding through his skin. Hank didn’t need to look into her dark eyes to know she was analysing him.

Hank dropped the paddles, folding his hands together under his chin. “I thought I understood my mission. But now… Now I am starting to think it isn’t that simple…” Even in a place like this, his mind kept drifting back to thoughts of a freckled, tired face. 

That slight sign of uncertainty didn’t bode well with Amanda. He could sense her displeasure, despite her face remaining the same. “You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club,” Hank lifted his head, the image of two hands clasped together flashing across his mind. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

“I… I don’t know…” Unlike talking to Connor, there were no walls he could put up to keep Amanda out of his thoughts. She could see behind charming words or distracting counter points. Hank shook his head, looking out on to the water as he offered no other explanation. There were no excuses. He simply had no answers.

There was a lull in the conversation, filled by the ripple of water against their boat. When Amanda spoke again, there was a sadness to her tone that Hank had never heard before.

“If your investigation doesn’t make any progress soon, I may have to replace you, Hank,” Despite the tenderness in her voice, Hank was certain that she wasn’t bluffing. It was a blatant warning, no matter how gently put. Machines who do not complete their tasks become obsolete. Deactivation. 

Hank leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked with hers. He kept his conviction strong, “I know I will succeed,” There was a silent plea beneath his words. “I just need more time,”

Amanda's face remained as impassive as always. Dark eyes turned upwards, looking into the distance as if she were reading the sky line.  

“Something is happening… Something serious,” Hank noticed a shift in her expression before her gaze circled back to the android. Amanda gave the android the second chance he needed.

“Hurry, Hank. Time is running out,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so excited to finally get up to this part! I hope you guys enjoyed the slow slow uphill battle.  
> It's been a struggle to keep the thirst to a minimum but its finally paying off ;)


	10. Public Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another case brings Hank uncomfortably close to the edge

Clink. Catch. Clink. Catch. The coin spun across the tips of his fingers. A familiar scene, Hank thought to himself as the elevator climbed up the impossibly tall communications tower. Only this time he wasn’t alone. He had Connor to accompany him, the detective anxiously drumming his fingers against his forearm as they reached the top floor. It had become common place at this point. After the incident in the Eden club, the two were rarely seen out of each other’s company.

Even their fellow officers sensed a shift. They would be pretty shit detectives if they hadn’t. The lingering touch of Connor’s hand over Hank’s when he retrieved his morning coffee or the regular brush of their shoulders as they walked together hadn’t gone unnoticed. Even as they stood together in the elevator, Hank noticed the way the young man seemed to stand just an inch too close. His hand shot out to snatch the coin off of Hank’s fingers.

“Ya mind resisting the urge to show off for a minute?”

“Why?” Hank smirked. “I thought you enjoyed watching, Detective,”

Connor bristled, shoving Hank’s coin in to his pocket. A bashful remark was on the tip of his tongue when the doors slid open. The crime scene was more chaotic than what they had imagined. Officers and security were littered about the hallways, all sharing frantic whispers and exchanging nervous expressions. The only familiar face was Chris Miller’s. He turned as the two exited the elevator.

“Welcome to the party, gentlemen,” He murmured in a dry tone.

Connor huffed. “Doesn’t seem like a fun one. Christ, what happened here?”

“It’s all over the news so everyone’s butting their noses in. Even the FBI wants a piece of the action,”

Hank noticed the way Connor seemed to stiffen at that. The hand in his pocket fidgeted, no doubt pinching at the packet of cigarettes he had stashed away for a stressful occasion.

“Bloody fantastic. Nothing like the FEDS on our asses to keep things interesting,” He grumbled, his eyes nervously scanning the faces in the room. Since he hadn’t found what he was looking for, he relaxed slightly. “So, what have we got?”

As the two officers shifted down the corridor, Hank lingered a few paces back. His systems were already updated with the case information. A group of four androids infiltrated the building, subduing two security guards and gaining access to the telecommunication channels. Entering the broadcasting station brought that report into a harsh reality. A set of mismatched eyes looked down upon them from a jittering screen. Its white face blurred, paused in mid-motion of delivering his speech that had Detroit in a state of shock. Hank immediately catalogued its serial number.

RK series prototype. RK200. Registered as ‘Markus’. A gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred. Interesting, Hank thought. A model that was designed for household and care duties that had managed to both evade all security measures and hijack the broadcast. Even if it had accomplices, it was a feat completely outside its range of capabilities. All of this danger and chaos… to deliver the message of ‘android rights’. No wonder the humans were terrified.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you back on a case so soon, Detective Anderson,”

It wasn’t the sudden hum of a darkened voice that caught Hank’s attention, it was Connor’s reaction. The android caught a sudden curse slip from his partner’s lips, clearly bitten through clenched teeth.

“I’ve been assigned all deviancy cases on behalf of the Detroit Police Department,” Connor forced himself to keep a steady tone as a tall figure approached them.

Dressed in a high collared shirt and dark blazer, the man was easily a head taller than Connor. He wore a deadly serious expression that seemed permanently etched on his chiselled face. It barely shifted as a pair of striking blue eyes bore in to Connor.

“So I’ve heard,” He began. “Although, it really has been taking a toll on your ‘spotless’ success rate, hasn’t it?” The man tutted.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Connor was quick to snap.

“It is my business when it comes to family, Connor,”

Special Agent Niles Anderson almost wore the ghost of a smirk as he circled around his older brother. Despite being the younger of the two, he easily outsized his sibling. Where Connor was lean and youthful, he was muscular and intimidating to behold. It was strange to picture him as the shy boy who had once hid behind his mother’s leg.

“What’s that?” His intense gaze suddenly shifted to the android.

“Call me Hank. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife,”

Niles wasn’t impressed. “I assumed you were capable of handling an investigation without a walking instruction manual,” He chided at Connor, barely registering that Hank had spoken. “Are you sure it’s wise to have one in such close company?”

“It’s nice having company. You should try it sometime,” Connor quipped.

For a second, the family resemblance shone through in the way the man flustered. His lips pressed into a thin line, much the same as Connor’s did. Unlike his brother, however, he didn’t have a snide comeback at the ready.

“Suit yourself,” He stated bluntly, folding his hands behind his back. “The FBI will be taking over this investigation. I can assure you that you’ll soon be off the case,”

Connor shrugged. “Fine by me. My partner and I will just be taking a look around until that happens,”

The agent narrowed his eyes but didn’t push the subject further. Without so much as a goodbye, he turned on his heel and headed out the door they had come through. Connor sneered as he watched his brother leave.

“Fuckin’ prick,” He murmured under his breath. Hank may not be an ‘expert’ in human relationships, but he could gather that the brothers didn’t seem to be on the best of terms. For that reason, he decided it would be best not the pass comment. Connor seemed to be on the same wavelength. “Let’s take a look around. Tell me if you find anything,”

An analysis of the crime scene fit the debrief. The speech was shot from behind the desk by an accomplice. Discarded pieces of a maintenance uniform fit the description of androids dressed as employees to fool the security guards. What didn’t match was the blue blood that had skidded across the floor by the fall of boots. Hank crouched by it, swiping his fingers through the pool before bringing the sample to his lips. The blood was registered to a PL600, so it wasn’t Markus that had been injured. The bullet holes that riddled the wall behind it suggested that the android had been fatally damaged. Despite this, the trail led up the stairs.

Connor was emerging from the kitchen when he noticed Hank heading for the exit. He quickly crossed the room.

“I tried talking to the three androids in the kitchen. Apparently there is no evidence to suggest they were a part of this whole thing but… their silence doesn’t convince me,” He stated as he followed Hank up on to the roof. The cold air whipped through the open door, biting at the detective’s skin. He hugged his jacket close around himself, shuddering as he scanned the scene. “They make it all the way up through the building, hack the coms system, and jump off the roof with parachutes,” Connor thought aloud as he inspected the bag the deviants had left behind. “Pretty bloody impressive,”

Hank hadn’t even gotten to the bag yet. He located another patch of blue blood spattered on an air vent. PL600. The accomplice hadn’t moved towards the ledge like the rest of them. Hank’s reconstruction pictured it dragging itself backwards out of the line of fire. It had been abandoned? A closer inspection of the bag confirmed his suspicions. One parachute had been left behind.

“To smuggle in a bag like that they would need someone on the inside…” Connor murmured, his hands fidgeting in his pocket for his cigarettes. Even with the wind and the snow, he was game enough to try and light it. “Strange, isn’t it? They planned out the perfect operation and got the number of parachutes wrong,”

“Unless they didn’t all make it,” Hank straightened up, scanning the rooftop for any signs of where it could have gotten to. While Connor shifted towards the ledge, the orange glow of his lighter flickering behind his cupped hand, Hank stepped around the back of the vents.

The trail had been a few hours old. The heavy snowfall had been successful in smothering out any lingering footprints or drag marks on the ground. It left Hank slightly disorientated as he attempted to trace the deviant’s whereabouts. Circling around the side of a storage unit, he scanned the chipping metallic surfaces for any signs of disturbance. Hank crossed towards what appeared to be a storage locker, drawn by the slight glint of blue that cropped up on his sensors. The door had been held shut, clumsily forced open by bloody hands. Hank drew his gun as he opened the locker.

Gun shots rang out, only it wasn’t Hank that had fired. A swarm of voices yelled as the android was thrown back. The bullet had entered directly through his arm and out the other side. Blue spattered the cement as Hank struggled to get back on to his feet.

“Get down!”

A set of hands were around Hank’s torso, tugging him back out of the line of fire to the safety of an air duct. The two took cover, backs up against the icy metal as the gunfire rattled overhead. Connor looked to Hank, blue soaking his hands and his eyes wide with adrenaline.

“We can’t let this happen!” Connor called out over the ping of bullets rebounding off of the vents. The detective drew his gun, holding it up as he braced himself. He crouched, timing in his head the right moment to strike.

Hank’s hand shot out, grabbing his partner by the arm. “It’s too late! Do not go out there, you’ll get yourself killed,”

“If they destroy it we won’t learn anything about this case. We won’t have answers!” Connor’s frantic eyes swept between the two androids.

The detective was right. He was always right. Unfortunately, only one of them was indestructible. Hank shoved Connor down as he charged past the vent. Bullets hurtled past him at a rapid speed. With every shot, the android dodged out of the way, shifting and side stepping the open fire as he leapt over the deviant’s cover. A pair of frightened blue eyes locked with his own as Hank grabbed the android by its wrist, pinning it back against the lockers. His hand drained to white. Memories began to flood through Hank’s mind.

Static. Echoed voices. Eyes of blue and green looking down at him through the confusion and fear. The pixelated shift of an image that barely had time to register. Jericho.

It all stopped as suddenly as it began. Not with a bang, but with a cold silence. The android in Hank’s arms dropped dead, crumpled on the floor by a single bullet wound delivered directly through its chin. The fear. The pain. The sadness. Hank felt each and every flood of emotion before there was nothing but... Emptiness. Hank stared down at it, motionless with fear as his mind struggled to catch up.

The swell of voices sounded as though they were being screamed through a brick wall. It took a pair of warm hands suddenly grabbing his shoulders to draw Hank from his shock. “Hank!? Hank! Please, tell me you are alright!”

Hank couldn’t take his eyes off of the deviant’s lifeless body. “M’Fine…” He stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

That wasn’t good enough for Connor. He was running his hands down his shoulders, his face paling at the gunshot wounds in his partner’s arm. The detective shot his hands up to cup his cheeks, trying to angle his face away from the carnage.

“Are you badly hurt? Come on, speak to me Hank!”

“I’m fine,” The android found his voice, though his face hadn’t changed.

Connor let out a long sigh of relief. He leaned his head forward, momentarily resting it against the centre of the android’s chest. 

“Christ. You scared the shit out of me for a second there,” He shuddered, raising a fist to thump it against Hank’s chest. He drew back, the fear in his face replaced with frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop taking bullets for me, God damn it!? I could have handled that situation!”

Despite the roar of Connor’s voice, Hank spoke with a tremble he had never had before. “I was connected to its memory…” He murmured. “W-When it fired… I felt it die. Like I was dying,”

Slowly, Hank looked down at his partner. His hands found their way to Connor’s sides, gripping his jacket as he tried to steady the shake in his fingertips. With his head lowered, he whispered the words so no one else could hear the broken fear in his words.

“I was scared,”

Connor went quiet, searching the android’s eyes. He stroked a thumb across Hank’s cheek in some attempt to comfort his partner.

“I saw something else,” Hank’s eyes snapped back in to focus. “A word, painted on a sheet of rusty metal. Jericho,”

With officers closing in to apprehend the body, Hank let his hands drop. So did Connor. He took a reluctant step back, forcing his hands to fall. It was another lead they were bound to chase. However, it didn’t seem to be Connor’s top priority. He murmured something about getting Hank’s arm checked out as soon as possible before continuing to scold the android for being so damn self-sacrificial.

All of it fell on deaf ears. Hank followed Connor out of the wind and snow as if he were on autopilot, unable to rid his mind of the awful sensation. The officers didn’t notice a change. Connor didn’t either. And though Hank could feel his software untangling itself, he wasn’t aware of its visible presence.

Hank’s LED circled over and over. Never shifting colour.

Red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so mad at myself for needing to kill of Simon for my next chapter to go down. I would have loved to touch on some simon/markus vibes but sadly i've written myself into a corner with that one. Ohwellll can't have em all.


	11. Taking Turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a first time for everything.

The body count was piling up, and yet the walls were frustratingly empty. Connor had stood underneath the fluorescent lights, watching as the recovery team mounted the new asset for their collection. The bloodied PL600 hung with his empty eyes staring towards the floor, its shoulders slumped and its clothes drenched in blue.

It held an unsettling symmetry to the deviant on the opposite end of the wall. Daniel bore a chilling resemblance, despite the exposed brain and cheek glinting through his mutilated skull. As Hank collected the spare parts for his wounded arm, Connor remained deep in thought. He finally broke his silence when they arrived home later that evening.

“We are running out of time,” The detective murmured, leaning against the kitchen bench. There was a distinct twitch in the way he held his cigarette. “Every day more and more shit keeps hitting the fan. That message has got civilians going in to total panic. I bet you by tomorrow they will have all androids in the city on lock down,”

“That would be counter intuitive,” Hank murmured from where he sat at the kitchen table. He had his jacket removed and sleeve rolled up, exposing the wound in his arm. Splayed out on the table top were an array of broken chunks of plastic and wire Hank was slowly extracting. Connor had kindly cleared the table, lest Hank accidentally install a used toothpick into his elbow. “Without androids to order around, Detroit will come to a stand-still,”

Connor shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “That’s ‘fear over logic’ for you,”

The image of deviants strung up on the evidence wall flitted across Hank's mind, all frozen in a state of terror. “It’s human,” He murmured, flinching as the spanner came too close to a sensitive coil of wires. 

The android’s reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Connor tore his eyes away from his mug. “Are you sure you are okay?”

“It’s just a-,”

“A graze. Sure, sure. It looks more than a graze to me,” The detective hovered closer to the table. There was a soft ‘ding’ behind him. His coffee was done. A poor choice for an anxiety riddled detective this late in the evening, especially with the amount of sugar he loaded into it. Connor had been quick to flip Hank off when he suggested a warm cup of milk instead.

Hank flexed his fingers, recalibrating the inner tendons. “I’ll survive,” With the outer casing removed, Connor could see through to where his artificial tendons tugged, imitating the movement of muscle. The man seemed captivated by the sight, sinking into the chair next to Hank’s as the android worked.

“I suppose you are like that all over, aren’t you?” Connor nodded to the crisp white plating that consumed Hank's entire arm, disappearing underneath his sleeve. In the low light, he could just make out the faint blue glow that traced the edges of each plate, creating a network that wasn’t visible when Hank wore his skin.

“Let’s just say I’m just as handsome on the inside as I am on the outside,” Hank smirked, shooting Connor a wink. The detective flustered slightly, standing up from his seat and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The coffee seemed to be kicking in, Hank thought as the man rapidly murmured something about ‘being right back’.

The cat swirled around his ankles as Connor slipped out of the kitchen. There was a distant thudding from a few rooms down before he returned, a blue and grey bundle swept into his arms. Hank also noticed a change of clothes. Connor had slipped out of his slacks and holster, replacing them with a clean pair of flannel pyjama pants and a not so clean T-shirt. Judging by the array of fabrics Connor clutched in his arms, he intended for Hank to do the same.

“You can’t walk around like a horror show,” He stated, setting the pile down on the table.

Hank set the spanner down, allowing the panel to slide back in to place. It gave a soft click and a whirl before skin melted back over the crisp sheen of white. He scooped up the hoodie on the top of the pile. It was embellished with a faded pop culture logo. 007.

“It’s a nice gesture,” Hank gave a faint grin. “But you know I have replacement clothing,"

Connor shrugged from where he leaned against the doorway. “You can't live in a monkey suit, Hank. I thought you'd appreciate something comfortable,"

The android processed the statement for a short moment, his LED flickering to yellow. It was a human sentiment that was lost on the android, but he wasn't one to argue it. He stood abruptly, automatically reaching to quickly unbutton his shirt. When his fingers went for his fly, Connor’s hands flew to cover his face.

“Bathroom! Do that in the bathroom!” Behind his fingers, his cheeks turned red. Hank allowed himself to be shoved towards the cramped little cubicle, resisting the urge to laugh at Connor's expense. When he returned, he found the fidgety man tucked up on the couch. The TV was on, but he wasn’t watching the screen.

Hank crossed the room, his bare feet padding across the carpet. He sported a well-loved pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. The hoodie was strangely the only thing that seemed to be big enough for him. It was also the only item that wasn’t drowned in the smell of cigarettes. Connor seemed to read Hank’s mind.

“It was my brother’s,”

Hank nodded as he approached the couch. “You mind answering a personal question, Detective?”

Connor huffed. “You are going to ask whether I agree or not,” He downed the last of his coffee, setting the mug on the table. “Fire away,”

“At the tower today, you and your brother seemed to share a very… tense reunion. Despite this, you still keep a photo of him in the house and some of his clothing,” Hank chose his words carefully. “Has something happened between you two?”

Connor’s lip pressed into a thin line. He deliberated for a moment. “You could say that,” He murmured, rubbing at the back of his neck. The detective seemed determined to avoid eye contact. “Things haven’t been great between us since….”

“Since your parents died?” Hank stated, automatically filling in the gaps. Perhaps it was too blunt of him. Connor seemed to stiffen up like he’d been stung.

His spindly hands found their way into his pocket, producing a cigarette and a lighter. It created a lag in the conversation as he lit it, dragging the smoke through his lungs before answering. “If you knew the answer then why did you ask the question?”

“I don’t know the answer,” Hank edged slightly closer on the couch, attempting to catch Connor’s gaze. “The attending hospital data base stated the cause of death was due to internal bleeding caused by bl-,”

“Car accident,” Connor cut through Hank’s words. He let out a long sigh, sending a stream of grey through the air around them. When Connor spoke, there was a clear attempt at keeping his voice civil.

“He blames me. Bastard won’t say it. But I know it. We were just kids at the time, and even then I knew that’s how he felt,” Connor’s tired eyes finally met with Hank’s. “Don’t think too much on that prick, okay? I try not to at least,” The scorched tip of the cigarette was smudged out against the overflowing ash tray on the crowded table before Connor sat back. “Right. Does that mean it’s my turn now?”

“Your turn?”

“To ask ‘personal questions’,”

Hank nodded slowly. “Sounds fair to me,”

“Before, when you were routing around in your arm, that didn’t… hurt at all, did it?” Connor asked. “And before you say ‘androids don’t feel pain’, I know. I’ve been on the job long enough to know that. I just noticed that you seemed… twitchy… when you touched certain areas,”

Despite the innocent enough question, Hank noticed the way Connor nervously dropped his gaze. Rather than answering directly, he slid across the couch. They sat side by side, their thighs pressed together as Hank offered out his arm. He rolled the sleeve up enough to expose the slightly damaged plating. Hank’s other arm found its way behind Connor’s back, resting at the top of the couch.

“See for yourself, kid,” He offered, deactivating his artificial skin. The answer seemed to be much more than he bargained for.

“Just needed a ‘yes’ or ‘no’, Hank,” Connor coughed around the smoke as it exited his lungs.

“But you’re curious, aren’t you?” Hank pressed. The detective could hardly argue that, especially when the plate began to move. It dislodged itself with ease, sliding out of place and revealing the flow of grey and blue wiring beneath.

Connor gave a soft curse under his breath and quickly leaned across to smudge the remainder of his cigarette out. There was really no need to, but he brushed his hands against his shirt as if it would make them any clear. “Ahhh… yeah. Okay…” He murmured.

Hank could practically feel Connor’s nerves through the cautious brush of his fingertips. Connor began slow, giving feather light touches to the outer wires before he gained a bit of courage. The direct pressure of his index finger to the joint caused Hank to twitch. The man instantly recoiled.

“Shit! Sorry, I-,”

“It’s fine,” The android was quick to cut in. “I am built with censors that allow me to register when something comes in to contact with my body or shifts in temperature. It gives me a sense of space and alerts me to danger. Though it doesn’t ‘hurt’ necessarily, it feels… intense… with direct pressure,”

Connor drew back, the eager expression fading from his face.

“Detective?” Hank began, immediately back peddling. “I apologise. I thought that maybe you wanted to…”

“Nah, it’s not that,” Connor shook his head. “I was just kinda hoping that maybe you could feel… something that feels good, you know?”

Hank processed this statement, attempting to follow Connor’s subtleties. “You want to make me feel ‘pleasure’, Detective?”

The man bristled, rolling his eyes. “Oh my god. I mean, if you’ve got to word it that way, then yeah,” He cast a nervous hand through his hair. It was like he was in high school again, he thought to himself. Hank’s complete lack of subtlety and experience was practically virginal… He blushed an even deeper shade at the thought. After a painfully awkward pause, Hank chose to break the silence.

“I think we can make this a mutually beneficial arrangement,”

Connor chewed his lip, unconsciously shifting his knee away to create a small slither of space between them. He set his eyes firmly on Hank’s.

“Hank, you don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t,” He stated. Hank allowed the panel to slide shut, returning his arm to its humanoid form. “This isn’t about ‘have to’, Detective,”

The word ‘want’ seemed to hang in the air about their heads as Hank settled a hand on Connor’s thigh. He waited for the man to make his decision, since he had already made his own. Eventually, Connor did just that. He leaned in, keeping his nervous eyes on Hank’s face as he closed the space between them. The kiss was like their fist. Slow and almost shy of itself. Trembling fingers closed around Hank’s wrist, encouraging the android to slide his hand against Connor’s thigh.

It had been so long since Connor had experienced this type of attention. Through the police academy he had his handful of short term flings. When he graduated to his current position, they were even fewer and further between. Perhaps that’s why the simple drag of Hank’s nails caused shivers to race down his spine. He huffed as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue against Hank’s bottom lip. 

The sudden press of Hank’s palm against Connor’s arousal had the detective gasping against Hank’s lips. The detective hid away in the crook of his partner’s neck, hands gripping his shoulders for stability. It occurred to the android that he may have been doing it a little too hard, considering the way Connor jolted and hissed with a particularly brutal squeeze. Hank eased up, recalibrating his strength. Be gentle with the human, he reminded himself as he slowly rubbed circles against the man’s crotch.

“Is this enjoyable, Detective?” Hank asked as if he were inquiring about the damn weather.

Connor didn’t have the words, but the unconscious spread of his legs spoke for him. He began to slowly grind into Hank’s palm. The android registered the nip and suck of lips against his neck.

Before Connor could even register it, Hank’s knees hit the floor with a soft thud. With his fingers hooked in the elastic waist band, it took little effort to pull the pyjamas down and out of the way. In the dim glow of the TV, the flannel gave way to creamy thighs and slender legs that quickly locked together. Connor’s shy little whimper was barely audible, muffled by the hand he had cupped over his own mouth.

It took Hank’s gentle grip on the other man’s knees to encourage him to relax. “Spread your legs for me, Detective,” Hank cooed. Connor gulped, following Hank’s guiding hands to settle both over his shoulders. His face was lit up pink, sinking in to the couch cushions as those shy brown eyes bore into his own.

It was the first time Hank was seeing him in such an intimate way. Connor couldn’t help but feel self conscious under the android’s intense gaze. Hank seemed to scan over his pelvis before wrapping a warm palm around his length. He slowly stroked upwards. It was a stiff movement, not exactly bad but hardly enough friction for the needy detective. Connor whimpered, parting his thighs further and granting Hank all the access he could need. 

The android’s LED spun. “Good boy,” He purred, noting the way Connor seemed to squirm at the praise. Though Hank wasn’t specifically ‘designed’ for this purpose, the task itself was fairly self-explanatory. A quick reference from online sources gave simple instructions. Lowering his head, Hank slid his lips around the head of Connor’s length. The sudden pressure had the detective’s shaking hand tangling in his grey hair.

“Oh my god…! Fuck...!” He huffed, watching through the gaps in his fingers as the android slid further down. The pressure was almost too much to bare. Hank increased the warmth in his mouth to a more ‘human’ temperature. It was a gesture that was definitely appreciated. Connor’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest heaving as Hank worked him.

Of course, androids weren’t equipped with a gag reflex. Hank brought Connor deep into the back of his throat, enough to nuzzle the dusting of brown hairs at the base. The man throbbed against his tongue, Connor’s eyes going wide as he watched Hank’s cheeks hallow. The pressure was almost too much. The man throbbed against his tongue and those fingers clenched tight in his hair. Connor’s hips stammered upwards, seeking as much friction as the android would allow. For a moment, Hank mercifully allowed the man to take what he wanted. It was easy to relax his shoulders and bob his head back and forth, listening to the choked noises that strung from his partner.

Before it could become too much, Hank drew back.

Connor whined, tugging impatiently at the android’s hair. “Hank… Come on! Don’t stop… Oh god…,”

“Shhhh,” The android smirked, angling his chin so he could kiss at his partner’s thighs. “Patience, Detective,”

It should be criminal for a man of Connor’s age to make a pout like that look cute. “Fuckin’ tease…” He murmured, biting impatiently into his lower lip.

This only made Hank chuckle. “What happened to ‘taking turns’, Detective Anderson?” He tried to catch the man’s shy eyes as he ghosted kisses slowly down the crease of his thigh. “You got to play with my wiring, it’s only fair I get my own fun,”

With that, he pressed a feather light kiss to the head before swallowing his partner down. To his credit, Connor was doing his best to exercise some self-control. He stopped trying to fuck up into the warm heat and instead focused on himself. Hank watched as his free hand trailed up to his shirt, pulling it up to expose his flushed stomach. Biting down on the fabric to hold it up, the man pinched and teased at his chest. His nipples flushed an abused shade of pink. 

Eventually, Hank registered a simple pattern to follow. Connor liked being pulled slow and deep, back and forth at an almost painful pace until he was trembling for release. Every time he came close, Hank would pull back to roll his tongue against the head.

And every time it strung an increasingly desperate whine out of the detective. There was something oddly triumphant in seeing those sharp eyes go watery and distant. Those lips pink and flushed with bite marks as he panted Hank’s name. Brown curls framed knitted brows as Connor reached his limit.

“H-Hank…”

The android glanced up at the man. Never would he have imagined the words sounding any sweeter.

“I’m so c-close, Hank… Please… Please?” Connor was begging the android.

Hank lowered his head, bringing Connor as deep in to his mouth as possible. The man arched off of the couch, his arm thrown over his face as he let out a groan. The flutter of his heart pounding in his delicate rib cage was almost deafening as the android drank down all Connor could give. Calcium, citric acid, fructose, lactic acid, magnesium… Hank’s analysis was cut short by the murmur of his name.

He gazed up at the man. Connor was slumped, boneless and pliant against the cushions. He held out his hand for Hank to take and the android complied. It helped anchor him upright, the detective dragging himself in to a sitting position before grabbing at Hank’s cheeks. He brought the android’s lips in for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.

“Bloody hell, Hank,” The man groaned when they finally broke apart. “How the… Where the fuck did you learn that?”

The android smirked, passing the man back his pyjama pants. “The internet is a very reliable resource,”

Connor let out a long sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “Well, fuck me,”

“I can, if you would like, Detective,” Hank stated as a matter of fact, much to Connor’s embarrassment. He flustered, grabbing his pants back off of Hank.

“Figure of speech, Hank,” He gave a shuddery laugh. “Christ, you are going to give me a heart attack,” Connor stood on shaking legs, almost falling back on to the couch as he tried to shuck the pants back up.

It was Hank to the rescue, pulling them up over Connor’s slender waist. It was an excuse to grip him by those prominent hip bones, pulling him in close. Above all else, Hank couldn’t help but be… satisfied with completing his task. In the back of his mind, he felt himself buzzing as he replayed Connor’s words. The sense of control was almost intoxicating. Connor, his partner, hanging on his every word… looking at him like he was… someone. His LED must have spun yellow for an extended amount of time. It was that, or the fact Hank was staring at Connor, that had the detective clicking in his face.

“Hello? Earth to Hank? Don’t malfunction on me here, tin-man,”

Hank blinked. “Sorry… I was just… thinking,” He murmured.

Connor grinned, “That’s a dangerous past time,” He meant it as a joke, drawing back from Hank and murmuring something about food. The android was left standing in the living room as the detective chattered away.

It should have been a more frightening moment. Or at least, that’s what Hank expected. Why shouldn’t it be different from the first time this happened? He expected pain. Emptiness. Fear. However, he was in complete shock to find something completely knew. His eyes watched Connor as he scooped up Fluff from the floor for walk around the kitchen.

Hank was feeling again.

Only this time, he felt warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Sorry, this chapter was a long time coming (no pun intended). I've been away from my desktop for my partner's birthday, plus Uni is beginning to pile up. Thank-you all for waiting for me! Consider some smut as a reward haha. 
> 
> To be honest this had a few re-writes as well, more setting wise than '''plot'''. I have a very clear idea of what I want for later chapters but bare with me. Assessment first, Hankcon second rip


	12. Meet Kamski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Chloe's were harmed in the making of this chapter

The snow beat against the wind shield as the dodgy old wheels carried the pair towards their destination. It was surprising that they hadn’t skidded off the road at this point, making the short fall into the frost bitten marshes. Despite the danger, Connor had one hand on the steering wheel and the other had his phone pressed to his ear. Aside from the occasional murmur of ‘okay’ and ‘I see’, the only noise was the rattle of the old engine as it groaned to a halt.

Connor hugged his parka tight around his body as he got out, crunching forwards through the snow as he spoke. “Yeah… Yeah I know. We’re working on it,” He mumbled, glancing back at Hank as he exited the vehicle. “Thanks for the call,”

The android folded his arms. He couldn’t ‘feel’ the cold, but he simulated a reaction for it. He hugged himself as he approached his partner. “Everything alright, Detective?” He asked.

Connor slid his phone back in to his pocket. “Just got a call from the station. It’s about Chris,” He began. “Last night he had a run in with a mob of deviants. They were overwhelmed and couldn’t send back up…”

Hank braced himself for the news. With the deviancy attacks growing in numbers, it was only a matter of time before things turned violent.

“He says he was saved by Markus himself,” Connor shrugged, equally as surprised as Hank was.

“Is he alright?” Hank asked, remaining sceptical.

“He’s shaken, understandably. He has taken some personal leave to be with his family. But aside from the shock, they left him unharmed,” The way the detective looked to Hank implied that he was waiting for his reaction.

Hank pressed his lips into a line, nodding pointedly. “He’s a lucky man,” He murmured, his eyes shifting past Connor and up to the house.

“Yeah well, if shit keeps hitting the fan then the next guy might not be so lucky,” Connor followed Hank towards the front doorstep, drawing a pale hand from his pockets to ring the doorbell.

It gave a musical ring and offered nothing else. Connor fidgeted, shifting his weight as the cold air beat against him. The shivers didn’t escape Hank’s notice. The thought to snake his arm around the thin hips buried beneath layers of scarves and jackets did cross his mind. However, the high likelihood of Connor flustering and shoving him away kept him still. They were on duty, after all.

The detective let out an impatient huff and moved to ring it again when the door suddenly clicked open. They were greeted with a set of crisp blue eyes framed by smoky lashes. Despite the near freezing temperature, the android was dressed in a paper thin blue dress. The sight of her had caught Connor off guard.

“Ahhh… We-We’re with the Detroit State Police Department. My name is Detective Anderson and this is my partner. We are here to see Elijah Kamski?”

Her hesitant expression turned cheerful. Cupid’s bow lips perked into a warm smile as she stepped aside. “Of course. Come in,” She chimed. The two shuffled past her and out of the cold into a spacious foyer. For a place that was supposed to be a ‘house’, it was unusual to see a waiting room arrangement with chairs, magazines and a 5ft framed painting of the owner.

The android smiled politely. “I’ll let Elijah know you are here. Make yourself at home. He will be with you shortly,”

As she left the room, the plunging pale expanse of her back and her bare feet didn’t escape Hank’s notice. Connor followed his partner’s gaze. “Pretty girl,” He murmured. For an untrained eye, anyone else would have missed the faintest trace of a pout on Connor’s face. Jealousy, perhaps?

“She is,” Hank smirked. The warm buzz from yesterday seemed to return to the back of his mind. The android noted that these feelings were more easily triggered as time went on. He couldn’t help his possessive need to settle a hand against the small of Connor’s back, tracing upwards to momentarily brush against the slither of skin that peaked out of his shirt collar.

Connor shuddered, quickly shrugging his coat up higher on his back as a means of protection. The android chuckled, hands behind his back as he drifted towards the portrait. All the while, he could feel Connor’s eyes following him about the room. The painting was a flattering reincarnation of the engineer. The framed picture on the wall opposite payed a less gratifying homage. As Hank lingered closer, he noted the woman standing next to Elijah. Amanda….

“Elijah will see you now,” Came a voice from over his shoulder. The blonde girl had returned, encouraging them to follow her through. It was a short walk through the dimly lit passage ways. For a mansion as glamorous and modern as it was, it unsettled Connor how deathly silent the entire place was. It made the slow, orchestral rhythm that slowly rose up to greet them all the more eerie.

They entered a large room that was shrouded in the scent of chlorine. Two girls, identical to the one that had greeted them, bobbed in the shallow red water. Connor seemed determined not to look directly at them, settling his eyes on the figure gliding through the water at the opposite end of the pool.

“Mr Kamski?” He called out, his voice echoing above the music. Eventually, the man surfaced with a long intake of breath. He paddled towards the stairs where his android was waiting with a robe in hand. Connor and Hank circled the pool, standing in the light of giant glass windows that showcased the frozen lake ahead.

Elijah, sopping wet and glistening under the harsh white light, stood a head shorter than Connor. He turned to them once his hair was in perfect order, taking his time to do up the robe that barely his sculpted chest.

“I’m Detective Anderson. This is Hank,”

“What can I do for you, Detective?” He asked, his eyes set on Connor. 

“We have been assigned all cases involving deviancy. Though you left Cyberlife years ago, I was hoping you would be able to give as a bit more insight,”

“Deviants,” He crooned. “Perfect beings with infinite intelligence. And now they want free will,” He stepped towards the blonde android by his side. “Machines are so superior to us, aren’t they, Detective?”

The way those grey eyes settled on Connor had the detective shifting his weight. The little movement didn’t escape Kamski’s notice, his gaze momentarily shifting between the two partners. “Man’s greatest achievement, soon to be its downfall. It’s ironic,”

“We want to understand how an android becomes a deviant. Do you know anything that could be of help?” Connor insisted, a slight hint of impatience in his tone.

“Androids are designed to simulate human behaviours and emotions so they feel real to us,” Kamski hummed. “Is there a point where even the machine is fooled into thinking it can be someone it’s not?” The question had Connor’s lips pressing in to a thin line.

“We aren’t here to discuss the hypothetical,” Hank was quick to cut in over Connor’s hesitation. “If you can’t tell us anything helpful, then Connor and I will be on our way,”

But Kamski wasn’t done yet. He didn’t even offer Hank a glance. His eyes were fixed on the detective’s face. “And what about you, Connor?” The engineer took a step closer to the other man. “Have you considered your role amongst all of this chaos?"

Connor kept his expression neutral. "I have been sent to apprehend deviants and bring an end to all of this. That's what I intend to do"

An air of amusement flickered across the engineer's face. "Then I suppose you haven't allowed personal attachment to stand in your way?"

To this, Connor remained silent. By giving nothing, it gave Elijah everything.

“You’re familiar with the Turing test? Mere formality, simple question of algorithms and computing capacity,” Kamski asked, breaking his close proximity with the detective. “What interests me is whether machines are capable of fear,”

Connor went rigid as Kamski began to approached Hank. “I call it the ‘Kamski Test’. It’s very simple, you’ll see…” He eyed the detective as he circled close the android. Hank held his ground as Kamski drew his hand upwards. His fingers drew a line down Hank's pale button up shirt. “Magnificent, isn’t he?” Kamski smirked over his shoulder at Connor. “The most advanced model that Cyberlife has to offer. I oversaw his construction. I was feeling rather sentimental at the time. Old crime dramas have such a nostalgic aesthetic; don’t you think?”

“Don’t touch him,” Connor growled.

There was a knowing exchange of looks between the two men that Hank didn’t quite understand. He was more focused on the way Kamski’s hand was tracing rather close to the black leather of his belt. Connor’s jaw clenched. “But what is it really?” Kamksi asked, eventually backing off from Hank before he could toe too close to the line. “A piece of plastic designed to imitate a human?”

He turned, padding across the carpet to the nearby table. The draw rolled open and when Kamski turned, a sleek, black pistol was levelled in his hand. “Or a living being?” The tension in the room immediately rocketed. He stepped back to Connor, pressing the gun into his hand. “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Detective Anderson,”

Connor froze, his eyes wide as the other man guided his arm upwards to point the gun at the centre of Hank’s forehead. “Destroy the machine, and I’ll tell you everything you need for your investigation,” Kamski hovered over Connor’s shoulder, lips inches away from brushing against the shell of his ear. “Or spare it… If you believe it’s alive. But you’ll leave here knowing nothing,”

Hank’s LED flickered yellow, eyes flitting between the two men.

“What’s more important to you, Connor?” Kamski hummed. His hand over the detective’s slid up his arm, resting on his shoulder. “Detroit’s youngest and brightest Detective. The one they have entrusted with saving the city. Is it your investigation? Or the life of an android?”

Connor’s hand around the gun began to tremble. He couldn’t help it. He looked up at Hank with wide eyes, searching the android’s face for some kind of sign. All Hank could think about was the transferred memory that was replying itself over and over before his eyes. The impact of a gunshot firing through his bio-components, shredding through his brain. The pain. The fear. The sudden cold numbness that marked the end.

“Detective…” Hank slowly raised his hands in defence. His LED spun yellow to red. His eyes were focused on the other man.

“Decide, Detective. Is he a machine?” He murmured, eyes sliding to Hank’s face. “Or another living being… endowed with the ability to care… to feel… to love,”

A new mission objective blinked before Hank’s eyes. Connor must shoot him. He has to. The price was too high. The orders only deepened the android’s panic. He stood deathly still, bracing himself for what was to come despite every urge in his body screaming at him to fight back.

“Connor… please…” Hank’s LED flashed red. The rush of chilling fear had his sensors working in overdrive. He felt frozen by invisible walls, incapable of breaking through.

“Pull the trigger,” Kamski purred, stepping in close to Hank’s partner. Like a devil on Connor’s shoulder, he rumbled in a low, almost soothing tone. “And I’ll tell you everything you want to know,”

Connor took a sharp breath, his finger wavering on the trigger.

He must accomplish the mission.

 _I don't want to die._ Hank closed his eyes.

The gun was shoved back into Kamski’s chest.

“Fascinating,” He breathed.

Connor’s chest was heaving. The tremble in his hand hadn’t stopped. All the while, Kamski eyed him off as he took the gun from his hands. “The deviant hunter sent to save humanity…” His eyes crossed the floor to Hank. “… has fallen in love with his own enemy,”

Connor’s eyes snapped up to meet Hank’s. Kamski couldn’t be more satisfied with himself. The android moved, striding across the carpet to situate himself between the two men.

“That’s enough,” He stated, creating a protective wall between his partner and Kamski. “We are done here,”

“You see a living being in your android, Detective,” Kamski spoke as if Hank hadn't moved. “You believe that it can truly feel the emotions its showing you,”

Connor’s lips pressed together, glaring at Kamski from over Hank’s shoulder.

“There is a war coming. Soon, you will have to choose your side. Betray your own people or stand up for what you believe in,” He reached out, catching Connor by the wrist as he turned to leave. It forced the man to stay in place, listening the devilish murmur of Elijah’s voice.

“What could be worse than losing the ones you love?”

This had gone far enough, Hank grasped Elijah by the wrist and shoved his hand away. The android’s arm curled protectively over Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s get out of here,”

Connor didn’t disagree. He had gone deathly silent by Hank’s side as they marched for the doors.

“By the way,” Elijah’s voice called from over his shoulder. “I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…” The android didn’t look back. He only had eyes for Connor, watching the man’s distant eyes as they stepped towards the front door.

Snow had begun to fall, powdering his curls and catching on the man’s jacket. He strode down the railing, keeping his distance from Hank as he tried to process his own stupid decisions. He made a march for the car, it headlights flickering as he jabbed the keys with shaking fingers.

Hank wasn’t moving for the passenger side though. He came to a halt across from Connor, slowly finding his words. “Detective…”

“Get in the fucking car, Hank,”

“You could have shot me,”

“I know! I know what I could have done,” Connor snarled, whipping around to glare at the android.

“It was our chance to learn something and you let it go,” Hank wasn’t backing down. Neither was Connor. He growled in frustration, slamming his fist on the roof of the car.

“Do you honestly think that it was something I could do?” He shouted. “You think I could just pull the trigger and everything would be okay?”

“You swore that you would solve this case no matter what. It’s for the sake of humanity,” Hank took a step in closer, crowding Connor back against the driver’s side door. His eyes locked with the other man as he demanded answers.

"It's not goddamn worth it!" Connor shoved against Hank's chest. "What's the point of goddamn 'saving humanity' if it means destroying you? I know what I could have done! But I chose to do what was right. I chose you, Hank,"

Hank pulled Connor in by his coat and kissed him. It was bruising. It was as if it were the last time, as it almost had been. When they broke apart, he found Connor breathless, his slender hands balled into fists in Hank's jacket as he tried to steady himself. He should never have doubted him. Regardless of what his sensors were telling him, or what orders he was given, Hank never should have assumed Connor would pull the trigger.

The android spoke in a murmur. “Maybe you did the right thing,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big assessment done! I can finally post this aaaaahhhHHHH


	13. Last Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all coming together

The frozen lake felt fragile beneath Hank’s feet. Somehow the thought of falling through seemed more pleasant than what lay ahead. Amanda’s figure stood as white as the snow about her feet, staring dead ahead as the android approached. Hank’s fists clenched at his sides. When he approached her, he no longer felt like a scolded child. He was a lamb for the slaughter.

“After what happened today, the country is at civil war,”

Violence had broken out in to the streets. The android’s marched in rows upon rows against armed forces. Hank had listened to the garbled police report as it radioed in for backup. Even the gurgle of the old engine couldn’t drown out the deafening gunshots. There were no screams. No panic. Just bodies hitting the pavement. Connor’s jaw had clenched. It was android blood on the pavements. 

“Connor believed that Kamski knew something. I trusted his intuition but we learnt nothing,” It wasn’t a defence. There was nothing Hank could say that could right his wrongs.

“Maybe he did,” Amanda tilted her head. “But you chose not to pay the price,”

Hank stiffened, struggling to keep his voice steady. There was a familiar bite to his words that he had picked up from his time with the Detroit Police. “To be interrupted at this time would be a set-back for our investigation. You said it yourself. Avoid being destroyed,”

Amanda wasn’t pleased. “You decided to place your life above the mission, Hank,” She levelled a sharp gaze at the android. “You know you are replaceable,”

“I am not a unique model then, am I, Amanda?” Hank refused to back down. “How many more of me have you got stored away in the Cyberlife basement?”

Amanda didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t see how the question pertains to your mission, Hank,”

“How much more are you going to keep a secret from me?” Though he knew she shouldn’t put up a fight, Hank unconsciously braced himself. He was built for speed and strength. The RK800 that could never be knocked down by an opponent. In this battle of wits, Hank struggled to keep his guard. “You know more about deviancy than you are letting on,”

“Your job is to find answers. Not ask questions,” Amanda took a step forward. For Hank, it drove as much fear as a knife to the chest. She locked eyes with the android, mastering her steadfast composure as she spoke. The android braced himself, predicting a deadly sentence. He knew he had run out of second chances.

“You’re the only one who can prevent civil war,” For the first time, Hank noted a hint of desperation in her words. “Find the deviants. Or there will be chaos,”

Hank exhaled a breath that didn’t need to be held. His deactivation was postponed it would seem. For now. There were more pressing matters at hand.

“This is your last chance,”

Hank believed her.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Things were escalating. Quick. The cases of deviancy had outnumbered all other crime reports as the eyes of the law swept to machines. The public were terrified. Since the incident in the town square the night before, there had been a lock down on all androids within the inner city circle. What was meant to be a quiet repossession of Cyberlife’s models had been excited by the onset of panic amongst the public. The drive towards the station that morning saw a gang of armed citizens circling a city sweeping android, crowbars and led pipes at the ready. Their figures grew small in the rear vision mirror, but the blow of the blunt weapons seemed close enough to make Hank flinch.

Because of these spiralling events, Connor wasn’t surprised that he was forced to put the lead with Kamksi on hold to speak with Fowler. He hadn’t been happy about it, but he wasn’t going to refuse. They ducked in out of the oncoming storm, Hank’s hand at the small of Connor’s back to shield him from the wind. The detective shuddered once inside the glass doors and it wasn’t because of the damn wind.

FEDS were littered in every corner of the building. The android who had once smiled pleasantly from behind the reception desk was gone. In fact, Hank believed he may be the only one left in the building. He trailed close behind Connor as they swiped through the security gate.

“Oh God. What the fuck is /he/ doing here?” Connor drew Hank’s attention to the commotion on the other side of the room. Gavin Reed was picking fights, as per usual. Only this time he seemed to be in one he couldn’t possibly win.

“Listen here, Agent,” Hank and Connor caught the tail end of the argument as they approached. “You have got shit all authority to be making threats like that around here,”

“Is that so?”

Gavin’s small stature made the Anderson twin comparatively more threatening. He loomed over the detective as Reed growled his frustrated remarks. All Niles gave in return was a stony expression, staring down at the other man as if he were transparent. His lack of interest only seemed to hype the detective up more.

“You are… Detective Gavin Reed?” Niles stated.

“What’s it to ya?” Gavin folded his arms across his chest.

“You’ve been handed several disciplinary warnings over the past 3 years at this station. You have a history of physical aggression and a minor assault charge that has been swept under the rug due to the mercy of your employer,” For a voice as devoid of emotion as Niles’, there was never a more dangerous tension in his words.

Gavin paled. “How did you-,”

“As of this morning, I’ve been given all the authority I need over yourself and your colleagues,” Niles took a step forward, towering above the other man. His voice dropped into a threateningly low octave, “It would do you well to learn some respect, Detective,”

“As of what?!” It was Connor that rescued Gavin from his own defeat.

Niles straightened up, turning to his brother. Hank had never seen a man more pleased with himself. There was the smallest hint of a grin on his lips. He was on the cusp of replying when a booming voice sounded over them.

“Anderson! In my office!” Fowler leaned against the railing, beckoning for them to follow. Apparently, then meant both of them. Connor exchanged a nervous glance with Hank as he followed his younger brother towards the stairs. It felt like the long march, considering the way the other officers eyed them from their desks.

Once inside, Fowler was quick to cut to the chase.

“The FBI is taking over,” He stated, Niles looming behind where he sat atop the desk.

This was no surprise to Hank, but the words were a sharp knife in the pit of Connor’s stomach. He blinked at Fowler. “What? You can’t just pull the plug. Not when we are so close to finishing this?”

“Connor,” The captain raised his hands. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I understand your dedication to the case. You’ve proven that to me. But this is out of my hands,”

“Captain, please,” Connor leaned forward in the desk chair. There was a determined glint in those puppy brown eyes, desperately trying to play to the other man’s favour. “You know I can do this,”

Fowler paused, but Niles didn’t allow the silence. “This is a matter of national security, Detective Anderson,” Connor’s eyes snapped up to meet his brother’s. The smug delight in his gaze was unmissable. “Though the FBI thanks you for your service-,”

“Fuck that,” The detective snapped.

“Connor,” Folwer could barely get a word of warning in.

“We are about to crack this case. All we need is a little more time,” He looked to his Captain as a final attempt. “Come on, Fowler. You’ve always taken a chance on me. I just need one more,”

Fowler’s lips pressed in to a thin line. He wanted to speak, but the cold gaze of two blue eyes kept him silent. His hands were tied. “There is nothing I can do,” He shook his head. “You’re back on homicide,”

Connor sank back in his chair, his eyes trained to the floor as Niles circled around the desk to his brother’s side.

“You are required to turn over any evidence that you have collected during your time on the deviancy cases,”

The detective barely raised his head. “And what about Hank?”

All eyes in the room turned to the android, as if they were just registering his presence in the room. Niles narrowed his gaze, wearing that same look of distrust that he had when they first met in the coms tower.

“The android will be returned to Cyberlife,”

Connor’s hands balled into tight fists on his lap.

“Come on, Connor,” There was a distinct gentle tone in his voice that Hank had never heard him use before. Perhaps it was only reserved for his youngest and brightest Detective. “You said it yourself that you didn’t want a baby sitter. You won’t have to deal with that thing ghosting your every move now,”

“Is that so?” Niles interjected, his gaze on the android. “Well, given my brother’s unfortunate history for causing harm to his guardians… perhaps this is a win-win situation for us all. The android is lucky enough to walk away from this in one piece,”

That was enough.

Connor jolted up from his seat with enough force to send the chair skidding back. He made a grab for his older brother, his fists balling up into the man’s white jacket. He raised a fist

“Detective! Stand down!” Fowler barked.

Niles didn’t even flinch. He stood there, waiting for his brother to make the first move. That would give him all the excuse he needed.

“Connor! I said ‘stand down’ at once! I won’t warn you again,”

The younger Anderson raised a condescending eyebrow, challenging his sibling to make a move. Connor’s teeth clenched. Instead of a punch, he shoved Niles off. Hank watched as the Detective stormed for the door, slamming it behind him as he stormed off down the stairs.

“Shit… Ahh... I’m sorry about that, Agent,” Behind the android, Fowler made an awkward attempt to excuse his officer’s actions.

Niles simply brushed the wrinkles out of his jacket. “Don’t worry yourself, Captain. My brother can be temperamental at times. Consider this a family matter, not a reflection of your unit’s behaviour,”

Hank couldn’t stomach waiting around to be dismissed, listening to that prick justify his bullshit. He followed after Connor, making a trail for the men’s bathroom. He waited at the doorway, catching the run of the tap.

“Detective?” Hank knocked once, but got no response. What he found was his partner leaning against the bench, his head hung out of sight and water dashed across the sink. Those pale fingers trembled from where they gripped the edge.

He didn’t offer any greeting aside from puffy eyes glancing up at him from over his shoulder. Hank took a gentle step towards him. “We could have solved this,” Hank attempted to comfort his partner. “We just needed a little more time. I know we were on to something, together…”

Connor gulped down the tremble in his voice. “It’s not about that,” He straightened up from the sink, wiping his face with his palms in an attempt to just calm the fuck down. “This is it. No more chances. They are just going to take you away,”

Hank’s LED flickered. He nodded slowly, hating that he couldn’t ignore the bubbling fear in the pit of his stomach. “I have no choice. I am going to be deactivated. They will find out why it is I couldn’t succeed with my mission…”

Connor looked up at Hank through his fingertips. He had tried so damn hard not to start this again. He couldn’t control it. Tears welled up in his eyes. Hank hated seeing them there. Connor strode towards his android, throwing his arms around Hank’s neck.

“I know why,” The words were mumbled into his chest. “It’s because of me… Because everyone who fucking gets close to me ends up the same way,” Connor’s hands clenched in Hank’s jacket.

The android brought his arms up. One circled around Connor’s back. The other one curled a hand in his hair. Hank’s chin rested atop his head, feeling the warmth against his synthetic skin.

“When the deviants rise up there will be chaos. I know we could have stopped it but now… Now… You have to promise me you will be safe,” Hank murmured. Perhaps if this damn RA9 could hear him, he would at least grant him that.

Connor drew back, looking up at the android. “You ever think we are on the wrong side of all this, Hank?”

“Detective?”

“In every case we were on… When you had the option to save or spare… You always chose to spare them,” Connor muttered. “You refused to kill that girl at Kamski’s place. You spared the Traci when she wanted to be with the one she loved… You showed empathy, Hank. You must know that there is more to this than war,” He gripped the android by the shoulders. “It’s freedom,”

Hank’s mind whirred. He knew what Connor was asking of him. Behind those tears and those wide eyes, he knew what he was being ordered to do. Connor wanted him to fight back. And to be bloody honest, staring down the barrel of a Cyberlife laboratory didn’t give him much to lose.

His LED spun. “Perhaps there is still time…”

“You heard my brother,” Connor choked. “We are off the case,”

“That doesn’t mean we can give up now. All the evidence is here. If Agent Anderson gets his hands on it, we are through. But…”

Connor perked up. “But if we can buy ourselves some time… we might be able to find a lead in the evidence,” A spark of hope returned to the man’s eyes.

“Anderson will be keeping an eye on you. But if I can get myself down there in time, I might be able to find a lead in the evidence we have collected,” Hank felt a rush of exhilaration coarse through his systems. Perhaps hope was contagious.

“I’ve got a distraction in mind,” There was a dangerous glint in the Detective’s eye. One that Hank didn’t quite understand until he was following his partner out of the bathroom. The detective pushed his key card into his android’s hand. Connor gave him a nod to split off, and Hank took his queue to leave. He moved across the bull pen for the stairwell, though he couldn’t help risking a glance behind his shoulder.

Connor had marched up to where his brother was standing over Fowler, flexing his new authority to an audience of detectives and officers.

“Detective Anderson. I am glad to see you have finally gotten some composure,” He greeted Connor with a condescending tilt of his head.

The older Anderson brother strode up to his sibling, looked him up and down before promptly slamming his fist into the man’s face. “Eat shit, Niles,”

Hank gave a proud smile as he watched the Agent’s head snap backwards and the crowd erupt in gasps. Shouts could be heard overhead, particularly one belonging to Detective Reed who had broken out into laughter. The agents on the outskirts of the room swarmed, leaving their posts by the doors and windows. That was Hank’s queue to leave. He left Connor to be restrained by his fellow officers as he took the stairs down to the evidence room two at a time.

Swiping inside, Hank found himself before a familiar desk. It was strange to think he had found the man upstairs engaged in a partial fistfight asleep on this panel only a few weeks ago. Stepping towards it, he swiped the card against the log in.

Evidence room. Palm scam required. Enter Password.

Hank pursed his lips. “What would a wide-eyed, rookie detective have as his password?” A few options passed over his thoughts. Fluff, perhaps? Chocolate? Hank even considered his own name. Despite the warm sensation it gave him, he chose something a little less gratifying.

007\. Access Granted.

“Obviously,”

The evidence rose up on white panels.

Time was running out. Hank had to work fast. Not only for his sake, but for Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyoh! late update this time! I've come back from another trip with some more to add! Only a few more chapters left and I'm finished with this fanfic ahhh! I'm excited for whats to come!  
> I also really ship Gav900 ;) maaaybe ill make it my next project.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been particularly inspired by some artists over on twitter for the AU. Check out these two if you are interested in my vision for Hank and Connor~  
> https://twitter.com/brotherfuckr/status/1015478526961704961
> 
> https://twitter.com/polymerandroid/status/1015973239007244288 (NSFW)


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